Under the Harvest Moon
by taoist elf
Summary: A sequel to BLW: Some things seem just too good to last, others are just too insidious just to disappear. Cue the Volturi- stage left. How far will Bella go to protect everything she holds so dear? Well – as usual – it's complicated.
1. Prescience

_Several folks have asked me to repost this story even though it was - in its other iteration - incomplete. After a blue, blue summer and lot of fucking change in my personal life, I decided to do a little rewriting and throw it back up here for those who are interested in the hopes it gets me back into the world of the living. _

_This is a sequel – or more continuation – of Be Like Water (though hopefully you can enjoy it alone). In fact the Epilogue of that story is the direct preface for this one. Parts of it are dark and the story forays in to a more "original urban fantasy" world with extra-twi concepts that may not appeal to every fanfic reader. (ie: it's not a girl meets boy drama)_

_As with most things in life, it's complicated. _

_The "official" schtick: A sequel to BLW: Some things seem just too good to last, others are just too insidious just to disappear. Cue the Volturi- stage left. How far will Bella go to protect everything she holds dear? Well – as usual – it's complicated. _

_**This story is rated M for language, violence, mature themes and non-gratuitous sex. **_

_**General Disclaimer:**__ Don't own a thing. Just having fun. Yada, yada, yada..._

_'_

_This chapter is a "flash forward" to about two weeks from the start of this tale. Prescience means "foreknowledge" and that's what this is: a moment in time to come._

'

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><p><strong>Prescience<strong>

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><p>'<p>

**Under the Harvest Moon **_by Carl Sandburg_

Under the harvest moon,  
>When the soft silver<br>Drips shimmering  
>Over the garden nights,<br>Death, the gray mocker,  
>Comes and whispers to you<br>As a beautiful friend  
>Who remembers.<p>

Under the summer roses  
>When the flagrant crimson<br>Lurks in the dusk  
>Of the wild red leaves,<br>Love, with little hands,  
>Comes and touches you<br>With a thousand memories,  
>And asks you<br>Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

'

'

Bella's breath echoed harshly off the stone walls of the cavernous building.

"Steady," Jasper's whisper laced the mists that billowed through the ancient double doors behind them.

Gulping, Bella nodded once – a brisk, curt movement in contrast to the roll of her heaving breath.

_She _had_ to keep it together._

Jasper's arm pulled her tightly to his side in an attempt at comfort, but the overture made her gasp in pain. Like she had been skinned, every last nerve chafed and burned against the contact.

He immediately slackened his hold and she drooped forward, catching herself with hands to thighs.

"Sorry, darlin'," he murmured, his hand brushing apologetically down her spine.

Bella sucked in an icy breath and pushed herself upright with a strangled cry. "Don't touch," she gasped.

"Shhh," he crooned, even while he snatched his hand away. "It'll be any minute, now."

Bella shuddered and drew a steeling breath through her nose as she swallowed against the tremors that wracked her body.

A rushing screech made Bella jerk her head up fearfully and scan the old abandoned tabernacle. It was just a restless bird, high in the rafters of the dilapidated building. Feathers rustled as the anonymous black shape flew through one of the broken windows.

Bella scanned the gaping room. The pews that remained in this relic were piled in dark broken shadows against the wall and wild grasses grew from between the cobblestones. Dusk had fallen hard, siphoning off all color and majesty, leaving only an ominous dreamscape the likes of which were perfect for this nightmare.

And make no mistake, this _was_ a nightmare.

At that moment, the harvest moon broke through the clouds with audacity, seeping in through the yawning archways and washing her anew in molten pain. Bella's body jerked and seized as she fell to her knees.

Pressing her fists to burning eyes, Bella let her head flop back to the dank, vaulted ceiling as she released a bruising sob.

_She couldn't do this! She __**couldn't**__! _

Hindsight and foresight converged in an oppressive present and the adrenaline of terror raced through her veins and she moaned.

"Steady now, girl," Jasper hissed, squatting down beside her. "They'll be here any minute. I feel 'em." His voice was tense and anxious, "Darlin', you gotta …"

Licking her lips, she completed his sentence in a forlorn whisper – more for herself than anything - "I have to do it right." Gulping, she looked up into his ochre eyes, searching for validation. Or some remnants of her waning resolve.

"That's right, sweetheart," Jasper breathed, worry withering that cool warrior's gaze.

_He was doubting her. _

It was enough to make Bella lunge to her feet, pitching forward a few stumbling steps as the earth reeled beneath her. Her empty stomach rebelled, pushing burning acid up to flirt with the back of her throat.

_Everything_ culminated in this very moment: the explosive trauma of the last two weeks as well as the long slow demise that had started with that fateful night five years ago when her world was torn apart … when the veil of innocence had been shredded by cold, undead hands.

In a mere handful of days she had glimpsed what lay behind the proverbial curtain that everyone pretended didn't exist: Love perverted by lust….the gluttony that lurked under the cheap veneer of civility… the corrupting savagery of selfishness.

Edward had taught her so much.

And they were lessons she had run from – frantic to recapture her lost innocence – in her hopes and dreams, in her nightmares, in the way she lived her life. She blended into obscurity as best she could and sheltered herself under the isolating umbrella of her Pack and lived by other's agendas.

It was only in the arms of the love of her life that she felt safe – or as safe as you can when your soul mate is a werewolf – and there she had timidly stayed.

But Bella had _finally_ learned, _painfully_ learned…

…_you can't run away from your destiny._

"They're here," Jasper announced quietly.

Bella's breath caught.

All the pain, all the suffering…everything she left, everything she lost, everyone she hurt…

It was all for this very moment.

Drawing herself up and squaring her shoulders, she turned to the silent procession of heavy, velvet-cloaked vampires.

The Volturi.

Bella gulped and blindly reached out. Jasper's steady hand clasped hers with a squeeze of fortitude that made Bella's nerves twitch and burn.

Side by side, they watched the small sober procession: four tall, imposing vampires flanking one tiny–but more menacing – leader. Bella ground her teeth to keep them from chattering.

With a deliberate and sedate speed, that was no doubt intended to unnerve, the group approached.

"Jas-per, you're late," a childish sing-song voice slithered through the swirling mists and echoed off the rafters.

"Now I was goin' to say the same, little darlin', but my manners thought better of it," Jasper drawled with a practiced nonchalance.

Jane sniffed a sarcastic laugh as her gaze snapped to where Bella was putting everything she had into stilling the tremors that rolled through her body. The girl's eyes glowed a vicious, feral crimson.

"And _Bella_… so nice to see you again," she gushed in a disturbing parody of charm and then drove in the knife. "Did you enjoy your honeymoon?" she twisted the question with disgust.

Bella nodded curtly and dropped her gaze as she squeezed her eyes tight and tried to steady her breath against her hemorrhaging heart's stutter.

Jasper squeezed her hand. "Where's Aro?"

Bella looked back up to see Jane take several skipping steps toward them, her hands clasped jauntily behind her back as her blood-red gaze flayed Bella down to her very soul.

A slow, provocative smile twisted those childish bow lips and she clucked her tongue. "You don't _really_ think Aro would come to meet you _here_, do you?" The girl cast her eyes disparagingly over the crumbling building. "Where there's no protection?" Her gaze narrowed shrewdly on Jasper. "On a harvest moon?" Her voice broke into a disturbing giggle whose echoes bounced through the gloom like ping pong balls.

Bella's stomach dropped as dread crept up her spine with clammy fingers.

Jasper shifted beside her.

Jane sashayed toward them in that disturbingly childlike way. "No, I've just come to get your answer and either bring you to our fearless leader…." Her repulsive pink tongue slipped out to run suggestively over her leer. "Or enjoy myself," she piped brightly. With that, her hand darted out toward Bella.

Like lightning Jasper intercepted with a harsh fist on the girl's wrist. "She's mine," he smirked, his glittering eyes in conflict with his casual tone.

"How dare you touch me!" Jane shrilled.

And, with a bellow of agony, Jasper dropped to the ground, curling into a fetal position.

"Stop! Stop it!" Bella shrieked as her horrified gaze snapped to where Jasper was writhing in torment. She whipped around to where Jane was holding him hostage with a sadistic glee etched into her face. Bella lunged and grabbed the velvet robes of the vampire who was only slightly smaller. "STOP!" she screamed, vainly beating that putrid granite with her fists.

Jane's casual backhand sent Bella sprawling across the rough flagstone. "Shut up," she quipped snidely, at least turning on Bella and releasing Jasper from his torment.

Bella gasped against the pain wracking her body, and quickly scrabbled to hands and knees as her breath pulled at her burning muscles and aching bones. She wiped her mouth incidentally with the back of her hand and was relieved that it was only snot, and not blood that was dripping down her face.

Bella took a deep, steeling breath.

_It was time. This was the end of it all._

All the pain, all the suffering…everything she left, everything she lost, everyone she hurt…It was all for this very moment.

Her destiny.

"Take me to Aro," she ground out through gritted teeth as she pushed off the cold, rough floor.

Jane was before her in a second. "You've decided to join us?"

"I've decided," Bella nodded once, holding herself up by her hands on her thighs.

Jane's face melted into a patronizing smirk. "**I** could turn you, you know," she taunted, no doubt envisioning the violence that she wished would end the threat of competition that Aro saw in Bella's "gifts."

Bella met that chilling gaze head on. She licked her lips. "I don't want to be Turned by some second-rate bratty errand-girl."

Jane's eyes narrowed as her lips pressed together in a severe line.

Before she kicked Bella wickedly in the face.

Bella flew backwards, splaying out on her back and gasping hoarsely in pain from the impact. An involuntary moan slipped from her lips as she rolled over on her side.

"Bella…" Jasper's worried whisper made her look up to where he was being restrained by two of the Volturi guard.

Grimacing, she pushed arduously off the floor. She _had_ to do this. For her child, her Pack, _her mate_ and all that was right in this world… everything she lost, everything she still held dear.

"I'm disappointed in you, Bella," Jane's condescending voice quivered on the jagged edges of a volatile temper. "You never used to be _so rude_. You've changed," she tsked harshly.

A bitter laugh washed, warm, over Bella's lips.

"Oh…you've no _fucking_ idea."

'

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><p>'<p>

Review if you like.


	2. Flagrant Crimson

Timeframe: going backward from the previous chapter a little over two weeks. I've made this point before but vampires are sexual predators. This is a pretty dark chapter but it makes important points. Those of you reading this for the first time: the whole story isn't this dark.

_I won't get these up so fast (I don't think) - just wanted to get into the story a ways._

'

_(Just read this poem at least once for me. It'll be laced through this fic)_

**Under the Harvest Moon **_by Carl Sandburg_

Under the harvest moon,  
>When the soft silver<br>Drips shimmering  
>Over the garden nights,<br>Death, the gray mocker,  
>Comes and whispers to you<br>As a beautiful friend  
>Who remembers.<p>

Under the summer roses  
>When the flagrant crimson<br>Lurks in the dusk  
>Of the wild red leaves,<br>Love, with little hands,  
>Comes and touches you<br>With a thousand memories,  
>And asks you<br>Beautiful, unanswerable questions.

**'**

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><p><strong>2- Flagrant Crimson<strong>

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><p>'<p>

Jasper leaned back in the overstuffed easy chair and lazily crossed his ankles as his eyes ran with appreciation over the smooth, sweeping curves of the perfect and very nude female specimen before him.

Well, she was _aesthetically_ perfect.

He had seen the tell-tale needle marks hidden in the most inconspicuous places and could scent the remnants of unclean living that soured her delectable blood, but he preferred to have it this way.

With his looks and Southern American charm, he could have had his pick of gals, but he preferred to _pay_ for what he would take from this "escort" tonight. Tonight, like with every other every other conquest over the last years, he would savor another shimmering moment of the warm touch, mouthwatering passion, and a gratifying taste of humanity.

Only to watch the sun rise with an ever-burgeoning desire for more. _Insatiable_, that's what his kind were by their very natures.

And he no longer tried to deny it.

But still, paying with hard currency for this stolen moment of living just seemed … _more palatable. _

And he paid well. With both cash _and_ pleasure.

"So, are you goin' ta be starin' at me all night…" the girl asked coyly with her lovely light Irish lilt. "Or will ye be wantin' to touch a wee bit too?"

Jasper's eyes snapped up to the girl's green eyes and a slow lopsided smile bloomed on his lips. "Oh, don't you worry now, darlin'. There'll be plenty a' touchin'. Just enjoyin' the view's all."

The girl smiled blithely with a glimmer of a former innocence that had long ago been lost to another sad human tale that he had no desire to know. It was better like this.

Much better.

The girl – _Kyla_, though he didn't really fancy the need for names – sashayed over to the posh hotel's huge bed and draped herself over the brocaded spread and patted the mattress suggestively.

"Ye've got a fair accent, handsome. I find myself lovin' that drawl ye Americans have," she gushed.

Jasper smiled and pushed himself off the chair, taking slow steps toward her as his whole body tensed in anticipation. That was the best part of it all, truth be known.

The _anticipation_.

He lifted his chin and subtly scented the air. Even less-than-pristine, the woman still smelled absolutely delectable. He'd have to be careful with her; he had gone too long between these indulgences - a fact to which his trembling hands attested.

He sat carefully on the bed as his eyes washed over the full freckled swell of her breasts admiringly.

"Are ye nervous, now?" she asked with a little cock to her head that made her bobbed ginger hair sway temptingly over her pulse.

Jasper's grin made his eyes crinkle as he shook his head, amused. "Never had me any trouble with nerves, darlin'."

"Well, wouldn't ya like ta get a wee more comfortable, then?" she reached out a manicured hand and ran her fingers suggestively over the buttons of Jasper's shirt.

He stared at the woman, idly licking his lips as he tried to muster his control, and she took his detachment as affirmation. She dexterously loosed a button.

He was entranced with every little detail: the way her tongue peeked out of the side of those painted cherry lips, the way she tilted her head in concentration, the way those green, green eyes –heavily lined with mascara - glanced up in assessment as she made her way dexterously down the row of tiny pearl closures.

Jasper held utterly still, as only his kind could, and waited.

With a sly lift to her brow, the girl slipped her hand into his shirt…

And pulled it back with a muted squeak.

"Ye're so cold!" She gasped, her eyes widening in fright as they snapped up to his shrewd gaze. "L-like a-…like a fockin' c-c-…"

Like lightning Jasper's hand darted it out to grab her wrist as she tried to bound off the bed. His eyes washed lazily over the fear that marred her youthful features.

"A corpse?" his lips peeled back from gleaming teeth in a moment of transparency.

With a shriek of fear, she struggled uselessly in his grip, her hair tousling wildly.

"Hush, darlin'…no need for a fuss," Jasper sent out soothing waves of calm and the girl stilled, her eyelids blinking rapidly. "You're just mistaken's all," he crooned pushing the thrall over her like heated honey.

Those emerald eyes rounded as her pupils quivered and yawned.

That pink tongue slipped out to run over her crimson lips for a moment.

"Yer eyes… " she breathed quietly. "They're so…"

"Why don't y'tell me about them, darlin'" Jasper murmured as his lips hitched up in smile and he released the woman's wrist.

"_They're beautiful._ Like them ocean corals I seen on the tele 'bout Bermuda," she mused in a whisper, her gaze locked onto his as he deftly finished his buttons.

"Or the blush carnation Bobby ga'me that night…"

"Kyla…" Jasper interrupted quietly. "Sweetheart, tell me what yeh fancy in a lover," he directed the discussion back from the personal to the sexual. Sex wasn't personal, after all.

Her sculpted brow dipped, even under the influence of his thrall and gifts.

Jasper paused at the button of his jeans and smiled with compelling encouragement. It was only his appetite he tended, not any misplaced sense of honor – he had long given up that pretense in this game. It was simply so much more delectable if they were aroused. _That's all it was_, he told himself.

"No one's ever asked me 'afore," she explained with that endearing cock to her head.

"Now 'less I'm mistaken, I jus' did," Jasper grinned and stood, shimmying out of the jeans, his own arousal already eager and thick.

"Gentle an' sweet like first breath o' summer," she replied in a whisper, her head bowing with insecurity that bled through his influence as her shining hair fell over her face.

Jasper reached out his hand and tipped her chin back up to him with a reassuring smile, capturing her gaze with his own. It was a delicate game he played with these women; he _hated_ the cloying taste of fear.

"I can do that, darlin'," Jasper crooned as he gracefully slithered down to his knees before her. The girl's erratic pants snagged as her eyes darted between his. Slowly, he leaned forward toward her mouth.

Her pupils contracted and she stammered weakly, "I-I don't do s-snoggin'."

Ahh, like so many of them. At least the girl had some self preservation instincts to avoid disease in her trade.

Jasper nodded, inches from her face. "Yeah, but you'll make an exception for me, won't y'sweetheart?"

He didn't give her a chance to answer, but pressed his lips to that fetching glossy mouth and she instantly relaxed into his touch.

A soft breath sighed and hitched over his face as his lips played expertly over hers and Jasper pulled her closer. Her skin was warm and so soft that he could barely feel it play under his granite touch.

_Careful Jas_, he admonished silently to himself.

This was the most dangerous moments for her frail human life. There was nothing that made Jasper feel more lifeless …more soulless… more _dead_… than kissing. He was perversely captivated by the way their breath dragged at his still lungs, the sprinting soft percussion of her heartbeat, the delicious warmth of her rousing passion, the sweetness of her mouth – so much a heady preview for the taste of her blood.

Jasper's venom gushed down his throat as he paid meticulous attention to preventing the slightest glancing brush of this razor teeth from the blossoming of her mouth. Her utter mortal frailty and the restraint it required was exciting. Every time he succeeded he felt just a little more… _alive_.

A little less like the monster he was.

The thought made him chuckle darkly to himself as he pressed the girl back on the bed and crawled over her, pulling her nude body along beneath his. He lowered his cold dead skin over her warmth and a gasp of bliss escaped against her mouth.

The girl's arousal had trussed her helplessly by this point, so he could relax the thrall and slip into the sultry seas of her desire. This one's emotions were nearly as luscious as the mouthwatering murmur of her racing blood.

She arched under his body with a throaty groan, razing his restraint. He wouldn't be able to draw this out long, this time.

Jasper broke the kiss and dragged his lips over her jaw toward that tempting pulse in her neck.

She turned her head, brazonly pressing her neck to his lips with a soft moan.

_Careful_.

His hands continued to play the instrument that was her body, stoking her arousal to a fevered pitch as he moved his mouth to that sweet spot just under her jaw. Fingers rolled rosy nipples and coaxed chill bumps along her side as he lapped with an achingly cautious tongue up the vein whose wet susurration was the most seductive of lovers' whispers. Jasper sighed in anticipation.

The best part… _anticipation_.

"Mmm… p-please," the girl moaned softly, interrupting his ministrations to the tantalizing column of her neck. "W-want… n-need," she gasped in a daze of craving.

"Ah, darlin' shore thing. We've both waited long enough," he murmured as he nuzzled under her ear. He never seemed to have the self-possession to really devote the time he wanted - he hadn't even gotten to sample those breasts - but his restraint was slipping and he could hardly deny _her_, now could he?

He sniffed another laugh at himself as he repositioned himself over her writhing bod and parted her willing legs, realizing his own body was quivering with both lust and anticipation.

_Anticipation_.

He entered her fluidly, his aching arousal slipping into her velvet wetness.

Kyla moaned in ecstasy.

"Yesss…" Jasper sighed as her body enveloped his like a caress. "Oh, yesss…" _Simply divine._

Breath hitching with whimpers of relish, he pumped his hips into her until she stilled under him, tipping her chin up as if asking for more. Jasper picked his head up and his gaze ran over her expression: lips parted, nostrils flared, eyelids fluttering, eyes rolling in her head. He could feel the rushing surge of her pleasure washing over him through his gifts – she felt _good_ - and some part of him reveled in being able to bring anything to this world but death.

A plaintive breathy cry was the starting pistol for his hips, and he began thrusting into her body… slowly, sensuously, at a pace that tested his will, and stoked her pleasure ever higher.

Frail hands clasped his shoulder blades as she moved with him to the percussion of her body's need. Her mouth sought his in a desperate need to connect and Jasper humored her with a delicate kiss that dragged his tongue over her quivering lips.

Jasper could barely feel the scraping of her nails into his back, but he _could_ taste her sumptuous rising peak. He nuzzled her face beseechingly to the side as his hips pushed rhythmically into that driving desire.

His mouth frantically pulled at the fragile skin of her neck and his tongue traced the taut tendons, his lips resolutely blocking his teeth from cleaving flesh . Jasper panted through his nose with the effort and craving, his cold breath condensing over her skin in a fine mist.

The girl's moans were rising with her body and Jasper's pace quickened and deepened.

Groaning against her pounding pulse, he rooted urgently over her enticing carotid artery, toward the feathering hairline behind her ear… and his hips' rhythm began to stutter with his eminent demise.

Like a tsunami, the tide of her ecstasy rose up and rolled over him like thunder and her cries joined his carnal growl, reverberating through the room.

And Jasper bit.

Excising the girl's neck with only his incisors and canines in a small half-moon behind her ear, the hot, sweet rush of her blood into his mouth pulled him over his own summit and dragged him along a rapturous high as he violently shuddered. His body convulsed with his release, over and over, as he filled that warm body with his cold, inert seed.

His soft swallows paraded under the girl's hitching post-coital sighs as he suckled the life that leached so willingly from the girl's neck. His lips clasped over the wound that squirted in time with her racing heart. He was careful not to waste a drop as he gulped down the ambrosial liquor that soothed the ache of his throat, but did absolutely nothing to quench his voracious thirst.

As the woman stilled and went limp in his grasp from his venom, Jasper counted out the seconds, desperately holding on with a white-knuckled grip to a restraint that dwindled by the swallow.

It was so incredibly gratifying to taste that scrumptious life gushing down his throat on the crest of cumming, that he was never quite sure how he was able to stop.

But somehow – since Bella – he always had.

That horrifying night when he'd had to suck Edward's venom from her drained veins to save her life, an insatiable appetite had been awakened. Every day after seemed nothing but a vain quest for its duplication. But nothing could compare: to the ambrosial sweetness of her blood, to the vibrancy of her emotions, to her guileless sensuality that was the most alluring of spices and made everything after – _especially_ the sustaining animal blood he still consumed – taste like rot.

But that didn't mean he'd stop trying.

Suddenly though the girl's breath stuttered in her chest and Jasper's attention snapped instantly back to his prey. He needed to stop.

_Now_.

Humming against her skin in frenetic warning to himself, every fiber in his being gathered into a snarl of resentment. Bringing both his hands to either side of her head, he pushed into the mattress with his inhuman strength, stilling his hips from their residual rhythm.

His eyes were locked ferally on the wound at her neck, still oozing life but well enough placed and executed that she wasn't in danger of bleeding out. He had yet to suck out his venom – his _nightcap_ as he called it - so she didn't die from the paralysis, but he needed a few minutes to gather himself before he attempted that arduous task.

Jasper swallowed thickly and rested his forehead on the cool hotel bed spread, gasping. But as the drugging haze of gluttony receded…

…he sensed them. Vampires.

Instinctively and with the mercurial speed of his kind, Jasper pulled out of the woman and sprang to the floor beside the bed, absently smearing the blood from his lips with the back of a hand.

There, before him, was the very epitome of disturbing itself: a small blond girl in her teens with a sweet, heart-shaped face was curled up in the chair in seeming innocence … yet her blood red eyes gleamed with lust and malice. Her yellowed, razor teeth bit her lower lip as her hand moved obscenely between her legs.

Even without the telltale crimson velvet hood, Jasper would recognize one of the two youngest of the Volturi, and indeed all of their kind. It was the infamous Jane, flanked by a dark Mediterranean and a huge, brawny European dressed similarly in their signature garb.

Jasper drew a breath through his teeth, letting a wry smile twist his lips as he let the heady rush from the blood and sex settle. It wasn't that he was ashamed, like a human might be, but he didn't like the tactical disadvantage of being caught with his drawers down, so to speak.

"I thank yeh for lettin' me finish," he drawled.

The girl's hand stopped. "Please… continue," she piped in an unnervingly childlike voice.

Jasper sniffed a chuckle and, like lighting, was at the foot of the bed, pulling on his jeans. "You're a might bit young to be so kinky, little darlin'," he murmured as he buttoned his fly.

Jane laughed, a trilling parody of a giggle, and uncurled her legs from under her. "You don't know the half of it."

Jasper looked up from under his lashes. "Now, I reckon I do. _Jane_."

The girl's lips peeled back from her teeth as she glanced in exaggerated delight to the two who flanked her.

"_Very_ good," she lauded spuriously. "Do you also know Demetri and Felix?" she indicated the dark and light one in turn behind her.

Jasper tipped his head in subtle acknowledgement. He hadn't recognized them, but he of course knew of the other two powerful Volturi guard. Demetri was a tracker without equal and Felix an indomitable brute.

Jasper's calculating mind was racing, but he could think of no reason for having caught the attention of their infamous aristocracy. Best to fall back on his usual patience and let it come to him.

With a nod to nothing in particular, Jasper sat on the edge of the bed and crossed his ankles casually before him as he leaned back on his hands. "I'm sure I hardly can fathom a reason for such an auspicious visit, little darlin'," he began. "Not that it ain't a pleasure n' all," he added with a slow smile.

Jane cocked her head and pushed gracefully out of the chair. She was a small little thing, nearly dwarfed by that heavy cape, but Jasper knew without a doubt that looks were deceiving.

She was dangerous.

As if she had read his mind, she smiled slyly as she skipped a few steps in a mockery of innocence.

"It's about _your mate_," she taunted, clasping her hands behind her back and pivoting her shoulders to and fro.

"My mate?" Jasper's eyebrows lifted of their own accord. He didn't _have_ a mate. Alice had been his wife – many times over through those interminable weddings – but not his _mate_. They had parted ways, albeit amiably, when he left the rest of the Cullen's. The debacle of Edward draining and nearly raping the object of his perverted infatuation – and the clan's "pet," Bella - had shaken them all to their very cores. The Cullen's had struggled in the undeniable face of the vampiric abomination of their insatiable thirst for life.

He had left them to their pitiful parody of humanity while Jasper had simply stopped struggling and embraced what he was.

In his own way.

He had thought there would be some fallout from Edward's behavior and the threat to being lulled into believing their carefully constructed world, but he'd always just assumed it was he, himself.

Not this.

_This_ was a delicate game standing before him, Jasper suddenly realized. A game that required careful strategy…and giving nothing away until he figured out the rules.

After this split-second of processing, Jasper pursed his lips. "Is something wrong with her?" Jasper smoothly began fishing for those rules.

"_Bella_? No, _not yet_," Jane grinned wickedly.

_Bella? Not Alice? _

Jasper's face must have betrayed his confusion, but Jane mistook it for something else entirely. "Oh, we know all about her," she gleefully confirmed stepping bouncily on the balls of her feet until she was inches before Jasper.

Jasper sat up.

"See, Edward came to see us before he was killed. Asking for his death because of that silly little human," Jane's eyes rolled disparagingly. "Aro said he had too much talent to waste," she sniffed. "So he left us again to go find her."

Jane glanced over her shoulder at Demetri and Felix, who were both staring at the nude girl on the bed hungrily. "Go ahead," she scoffed. "But just a snack, save some for me."

At that, in a blur the two men were crouched over the girl's still form, indiscriminately choosing the closest piece of warm anatomy to cleave with razor teeth. Blood splattered gruesomely from the violence of the assault as the woman suddenly arched under them with a blood-curdling shriek.

Jane clucked her tongue in derision. "They make such a mess," she bemoaned and turned back to Jasper.

"When it became known to Aro that Edward was dead…" Jane continued with disturbing disinterest to the flailing body on the mattress behind him.

Jasper stood quickly and crossed the room pinching the bridge of his nose at the wash of abject horror that slammed into him from the pitiful woman as she was ravaged. If it wasn't done right… they felt it. And so, therefore, did he.

"Does it bother you?" Jane's voice piped suddenly, interrupting her own sentence, and Jasper spun on his heel. The little girl was looking at him curiously. "Right. It does, with your _gifts_," she twisted the word dismissively.

"It was hardly necessary," Jasper rasped, indicating the torture unfolding on the lavish bed.

"No," Jane grinned impishly. "_But fun._ The fear makes it sweeter." She positively leered over the strangled cries of their victim.

Jasper's nostrils flared but he held his tongue.

"So Aro called Carlisle to Italy," Jane continued as if uninterrupted.

"And he said…" Jasper lead with a hiss of impatience.

"He didn't have to _say_ anything with Aro, as you know," Jane chided with a scowl at his tone and prowled toward him.

_Ah yes, Aro was a mind reader like Edward, but through touch. Then how did they believe Bella was his mate?_

"And do you know what he saw? He saw Carlisle arrive too late to save Edward. From _you_. You _murdered_ him," she hissed darkly with a frown, stopping a foot from his chest.

Jasper's lips curved at the thought still to this day. "He got what he deserved," he shrugged.

Jane was not amused.

She pursed her lips and Jasper's body ignited in flames. With a bellow of agony, he fell to his knees, fisting his hands at his temples as he gritted his teeth. It didn't matter that it was an illusion, the sensation of being burned alive, of the flesh melting from his bones, even the acrid scent of charred skin and hair scoured his nose.

Suddenly it stopped.

Gasping, Jasper's hands fell to his thighs as he squinted away the residual pain.

"It hurts doesn't it?" Jane crooned, with mock pity. "That was the last thing I remember of being a human," she said with feigned nostalgia. "Being burned at the stake."

Jasper knew the story of how her and her twin brother had been gifted as humans in medieval England and were branded as witches before Aro saved them.

Catch his breath, Jasper raised his face to the girl and gave her a wry smile. "Well I thank you for sharin'."

"Why would you kill one of our kind – a mindreader, favored by Aro – for a scrawny, little, mortal piece of pussy?" Jane tipped her head curiously, daring. "They said she's your mate."

Jasper's mind was racing as he tried vainly to put together the pieces. "Well, since you know it all, little darlin', seems a waste to bore you with an encore, now don't it? You gotta have places to go, people to kill, am I right?"

Jane's lips peeled back in a fraudulent smile.

And the blistering pain resumed. Jasper's yells gouged his throat as his back arched with the blistering pain.

And again it stopped.

Holding himself up with his hands on his thighs, Jasper choked on his agony. "What d-do you want?" he gagged.

"I don't want anything. It's Aro," Jane's grumbled with annoyance. "He saw through Edward that she has _gifts_ that he thinks… would be _useful_."

_Not annoyance_… _jealousy_, he realized.

Jasper looked up. "Gifts?" he grimaced.

Jane tapped her temple with a smirk. "A thick head."

_Ahh, her shielding._

Jane clasped her hands behind her back and turned to idly watch the carnage on the bed, as if bored. "And you _know_ the rule about humans. No pets," she looked over her shoulder and glowered at him. "I know you've kept her _human_ 'cause she tastes too good to turn. Kind of like a cow," she smirked with derision and turned back to the bed. "Though I can't understand how _she_ stands for this if she's your mate," Jane muttered, waving dismissively at the woman who was now lying still and whimpering on the blood-soaked mattress.

"She an' I have what you call… an open relationship," Jasper quipped carefully.

Jane whipped around with a roll to her eyes. "And you call _me_ kinky?"

"It was a term of endearment, darlin'," Jasper crooned sarcastically as he stood through the lingering pain. "And she don't know," he added pulling bemused lips up to the side. It was all true, and Jasper was well aware that when lying, the truth was always best if you could manage it.

"Ahhh…" she nodded as if the pieces of the puzzle had finally clicked. "You want your cake and eat it too," Jane looked him up and down once with a grudging respect.

"Guess you could say that," Jasper shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Bring her to Aro: three days, no more," Jane bit out suddenly, apparently losing patience with this game. At least that meant he had passed whatever test she'd had up her sleeve. "The rest of your clan are staying with Aro – at his request – and _will be waiting for your return _to welcome you home," she crooned silkily with a saccharine smile.

"Home?" Jasper frowned.

Jane suddenly went serious. "You don't seem stupid, Jasper," she spat. "You _murdered_ one of Aro's favorites. This is a _favor_ Jasper. And Aro _rarely_ grants favors. And _**never**_, unless he expects them returned. Return with your mate and we'll turn her," she paused with a mercurial smile. "Or _enjoy_ her and put her out of our misery, your choice… And we'll all live as _one big happy family_," she piped in an blithe sing-song sigh.

Jasper huffed in annoyance. He hated not understanding the subtext in this game of chess.

"Otherwise I'll go fetch her, and I'm not known for my … restraint," she giggled.

But now was certainly not the time for his answers. He pursed his lips and nodded once.

"_Three days,"_ Jane repeated, dismissing him by turning back to the bed.

Without warning, like a cat, she pounced on the girl's body, pushing the other two away impatiently. "You've barely left anything," she hissed viciously as her face dove for the woman's neck. Jane ripped the limp body off the bed and latched onto the carotid artery with a soft humming sigh.

Jasper grabbed his shirt and turned his back in disgust. His mind was reeling as he yanked up his small travel bag and slung it absently over his shoulder.

Pulling the door open he paused. "You're takin' care a' this mess," he hissed to the trio and slammed the door behind him.

Jasper stalked down the hall, hastily buttoning his shirt, as his thoughts tumbled. He still didn't understand exactly what had happened, but right now there was clearly no time for curiosity. He needed a plan, dammit.

Avoiding the elevator, because it was too slow, by the time he had dashed down the several flights of stairs he was no closer to either a strategy or clue.

As he pushed open the door to the opulent lobby, his cell phone rang with eerily perfect timing. _Alice_.

"You're a little late, darlin'," he drawled without preamble.

"I know, they wouldn't let us contact you until Jane called," her bright voice tinkled at the vampiric register and made the phone buzz. "But I guess you survived."

Jasper sighed into the mouthpiece. "What's all this about?"

Alice repeated what he already knew about Edward's visit to the Volturi but clarified that he had promised to bring her back turned. Eventually. She also explained that, Aro had jumped to the conclusion – with what he had seen in both Alice's and Carlisle's memories and Jasper's slip at her birthday - that Edward's death had been the product of a lover's quarrel. Carlisle hadn't corrected him, as there had been precious little that would save Bella's life at this point.

"Just like me, Aro can't _see_ the werewolves, Jas. They only saw you and Charlie at the house in Brazil," she explained.

"What about Swan? Will they go to Forks anyway?" Jasper's brow dipped in worry as he leaned against the shiny wallpaper behind a potted palm. He knew a little more about Bella's life than he'd care to admit, thanks to interminable nights, his hacking skills… and his own perverse infatuation with the girl.

And Jasper knew she had a child.

"I don't think so," Alice mused. "In fact he's willing to _ignore_ Charlie if Bella cooperates. I think he's insurance for that and Carlisle convinced Aro to let you go get her in Forks and bring her back to Volterra. Carlisle thinks they must be really worried about _something_, Jas. _Something_ must be brewing that they need our help with - maybe a coup? - they've never been so desperate to garner favors. They want you, me, Carlisle and Emmett – and Bella - to join their guard. Like, _now_. Carlisle told them we'd consider it, because he knows otherwise there's nothing left to keep Bella and Charlie alive."

"She has a child, Alice," Jasper interjected quietly.

"What! NO! I hadn't s-seen… I- I –" Alice shrilled with her usual flagrant shock to anything she didn't foresee with her gifts.

"With the werewolf," he provided.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Ah… _that's_ why," Alice sighed in relief.

Alice still put entirely too much faith in her skills for Jasper. _Most_ beings had trouble letting go of the _past_ – like Edward, for example– but _Alice_ suffered from the opposite disease.

She clung to the future.

Either way, Jasper had learned that if you tried to live life in anything but the present, it simply wasn't worth it. And mighty powerful things went wrong, there was that too.

"Oh…that complicates things…" Alice murmured. "If they find out about- …" her voice paused expectantly.

"A boy. Caleb," Jasper whispered sadly.

"Cute name! Boys aren't as much fun to shop for, though," Alice piped brightly with that vapid superficiality that drove him crazy. "With girls, there're all these adorable little –"

"_Alice_," Jasper groaned, more irritation than he'd intended. _Exes, _he thought wryly_. _They had a way of grating on you.

There was a moment of petulant silence.

Jasper pulled her out of her pout, trying to get her back on track. "If they find out about the _wolves_ or the _boy_…" he began, leaving that sentence unfinished. She might have her daft moments, but no vampire had trouble completing that thought where the Volturi were concerned. They _hated_ werewolves with an ancient and myopic passion.

"They simply _can't_," Alice pronounced simply, as if that had decided it. "Bring her, Jas. We'll figure it out," she brightly declared, like she was deciding nothing more concerning than what dress to wear.

Jasper grunted noncommittally as he leaned against the shiny wallpaper in the hall.

"Oop! Gotta go! Say hi to Bella for me!" she gushed, whether for the benefit of an audience or just _because_. Jasper wasn't sure: it _was_ Alice, afterall.

Jasper pressed the end button on the smooth touchscreen and tapped the phone against his chin once, thoughtfully.

_Bella_.

Jasper never thought he'd see her again. He found the prospect both unnerving… and exciting.

He couldn't deny he'd been trying to recapture what she had awoken in him in those precious few moments the last time he'd seen her: the feel of her tiny, fragile body in his arms. The taste of her compassion. The way she loved so completely…

The incomparable and addictive ambrosia of her blood.

And he was afraid. He didn't know if he'd be able to keep her safe this time, he mourned sorrowfully. And he didn't know what he feared more: the Volturi or… _himself_.

Jasper lowered his phone and scrolled quickly to Heathrow airport's departures webpage with a finger he realized was trembling.

And he _was _trembling.

In anticipation.

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Review if you like.


	3. A Thousand Memories

_Just how easy would it be for a very dominant wolf (with issues) to live a normal, human life? These next two chapters kind of set the psychological stage these two are playing on._

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><p><strong>3-<strong> **A Thousand Memories**

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He couldn't take it anymore.

He just couldn't

Paul's bones ached and his muscles spasmed under his sweat-slicked skin after ten grueling hours of hard labor. But it wasn't the physical punishment that had him shaking like a junky in need of a fix…

_Ten fucking hours away from Bella._

It had seemed like a good idea at the time: Christopher "Topher" Johnson, Sam's cousin and the owner of C&C Construction had asked him to digress from his usual part-time hours to help with one of the few ground-up building projects they got in these parts, and Bella and Paul desperately needed the money. Especially after those few days at Disneyworld had depleted their meager savings.

Technically, they had more money to their name than they could spend in a lifetime, but true to Bella's word, they hadn't used a penny of the inheritance that the Cullen's had offered as penance for the Edward's atrocities.

And Paul was glad. He _should_ be able to provide for his family on his own – without the riches of some arrogant clan of bloodsucking corpses.

He _should_ be able to, but he was ashamed at how poorly he filled the role. He liked to tell himself that it was all the fault of this supernatural curse that his efforts fell underwhelmingly short of mediocre. Fuck, he couldn't even spend a whole day away from her without getting so strung out he wanted to kill each and every idiotic human on the job site. They stunk like sweat and weakness, talked ear-popping loud about bullshit, and didn't even have the instinct and reflexes to stay out of his way.

With a growl of irritation, Paul hauled himself up to the roof of the building … holding the steel brace in the hand not clinging to the scaffolding. It was a beam that they would normally have used a forklift to elevate to the roof, but, since the other men had stopped early so they could suck down beers and talk smack - as was the Friday night construction routine - Paul didn't have to put up with the bullshit pretense of machinery. As soon as he got this piece welded and riveted into place, he could _finally_ leave.

And go home to Bella.

After twenty minutes that would have taken several men an hour, Paul completed his work and dropped lightly down to the ground from the two story warehouse roof.

No matter what his pride tried to push, he'd officially had enough.

He wouldn't be coming back for another ten-hour shift on Monday… or ever. Fuck it.

Ripping up his hard hat from the cement slab – which he never wore, for obvious reasons – Paul stalked toward the impromptu onsite breakroom where Topher was lounging in the old beat up easy chair he brought to every job site. The rest of the crew was sprawled on benches at portable tables amidst beer cans and Doritos and loud gangsta rap that buzzed the speakers on an old boombox and did even worse to his ears.

Topher himself was a large, stocky brute of a man who let his employees get away with murder as long as the job was done well, on time and under budget. Half Quileute, half African-American and hundred percent bear, Topher gave his men only one chance to get it right. After that, you might as well kiss your ass goodbye… literally.

His skin was brown and scarred, his belly generous despite the physicality of his job, and his hair never seemed to be able to decide whether it wanted to curl or be straight, so it ended up standing wildly up in every direction. He always wore a wife-beater under frayed flannel with a collection of large gold chains that clanked every time he moved. He worked hard, played even harder and had a mouth like a sewer and a temper that was equally rank… and that meant that he and Paul got along just fine.

Topher was one of the few non-Pack humans Paul could stomach.

The rest of the men… well, they quickly learned to leave Paul the fuck alone and tried to their best human ability to stay out of his way. Except for this new one who Paul called "Dick" even though his name was something sissy like Micah. He was a thirty something, oily-haired blond, fresh out of prison with a chip on his brawny shoulders that Paul was surprised didn't break the man's back. And of course that meant that he was drawn to the dominant challenge that epitomized Paul.

Every little thing was pissing contest. Luckily Topher had the sense to keep the two of them assigned to opposite sides of the site.

Paul's lips lifted in a sneer of annoyance, as the man looked up and gave him a sly smirk, pitifully fishing for recognition from his dominance.

Paul pointedly turned his head with a low disparaging growl as his gaze found Topher's knowing stare. Wordlessly, Paul stalked past the crew to the large foreman who's ubiquitous unlit cigar hung at the side of his mouth. Bella always joked that she bet he slept with the thing. Paul smiled at the memory of his wife's joking commentary that she usually picked him up with to diffuse the tension from the day. Paul wished to high heaven she was picking him up today.

As he approached, the raucous shit-talking conversations subtly quieted under the 808 bass blasting from the boom box as all men watched surreptitiously.

"You done?" the big man rumbled in his gravelly voice.

"Yep," Paul replied, tossing his hat and jug to the table and cracking his knuckles to mask the way they shook.

The man nodded stoically, his cigar twitching as his gaze subtly eyed the tremor Paul was trying to mask. Topher was a sharp man and had seen way too much evidence of Paul's unnatural strength to ignore it, as so many humans seemed to do, but if he suspected that his cousin and Paul were… _different_… he never so much as even hinted at it.

He did, however, give Paul a particularly lenient berth: he could come and go as he pleased and work as much or as little as he wanted with no questions asked. Tophe was good like that. He knew when to keep his fucking mouth shut. In return he got five or more man hours per Paul's one, along with his innate perfectionism. It worked well. For both of them.

"I'm gonna go back to my normal schedule, Tophe. Not gonna do more than a half day from here on out. 'Be in round ten on Monday," Paul shifted his weight and absently rolled his shoulders. He did like to give the man a head's up whenever possible just so he could plan. Topher's jobs were never shoddy… and never late. Paul could respect that.

The man nodded with a neutral purse to his beefy lips.

With his usual terse disregard for decorum, Paul turned, grabbing up his hat and water in a single motion as he stalked past the other men.

"Hey, Big P, why don't y'grab a beer. It's fuckin' Friday night," Dick's voice cut through the grating music rattling the speakers.

Paul could feel the interest in the expectant pause of conversations around the tables.

He rolled his eyes in annoyance as he continued steadily as if he hadn't heard him. What a joke. He could hear that fucker's mouth clear from the other side of jobsite – and he was usually talking about Paul. It was for good reason that he never socialized with these… humans. The tenor of the man's seemingly casual invitation made clear his goading innuendo to that fact.

"I know, I know. Guess you' too damn good ta hang with us. Gotta get home to that sexy piece of ass, huh?" Dick laughed provocatively.

Paul froze as fury crept up his spine with icy fingers.

From the quieted conversations, there was sudden and complete silence. The music on the radio beat out several measures against the instant choking race of Paul's heart.

"What did you say?" Paul breathed as he turned around with a searing gaze that should have been enough warning.

But wasn't.

"What! Ahm jus' sayin'." Dick's eyes went wide in feigned innocence as he conspiratorially smirked around the table, ignoring the stunned silence of his comrades.

Paul's teeth ground audibly as he dropped his hat and water bottle and curled his hands into quivering fists. He could feel the beast that he kept so tightly reined, rising up in him with the unstoppable power of a tidal wrath.

"You' bettah shut that fuckin' drunk-assed mouth of yours, Mike," Paul barely registered Topher's raspy voice hemming the clenching tension.

Paul's focus was a 300% on the asshole in front of him.

_Keep it together, keep it together_, some small part of him desperately chanted.

Dick leaned over his forearms and lifted a cocky brow making the bandana tied around his oily long hair raise. "I mean, I know I'd be stoked if I had me one of them. She's one hot little mama. All the guys think so… we just can't figure out what the fuck she sees in y-…"

His taunt was drowned in the thundering crash of picnic tables being overturned, huge hulking men being thrown into the air haphazardly.

Paul snatched the muscled brute up in mid air and slammed him down forcefully into the hard clay soil, pouncing after him.

Without really even knowing how he got there, Paul was crouched over the man, flailing with his own restraint… frantically, _desperately_ tempering the strength of the pummeling blows being pounded into the man's face, body, anything he could reach.

Lupine fury ripped in ruthless snarls from Paul's lips as he indiscriminately landed punch after punishing punch, mercilessly ignoring the man's pathetic whimpers. And under the icy layer of rage, fear rushed through Paul's veins.

He couldn't stop.

He was going to kill him.

Many large hands grasped his body and arms, echoing that chilling realization. Paul's feral attention switched in a heartbeat to his assailants and he lunged to his feet, lifting four men off the ground incidentally by his sheer strength. He shook them off easily like a bad case of fleas, fluently grabbing and throwing any fool who rushed to try and stop him.

Nothing could stop him.

Not even himself.

Baring his teeth in a vicious growl, Paul whipped back to his victim, scrabbling backward on the ground like an ungainly crab, terror making his pupils mere pinpoints over the stench of his piss.

Paul pounced.

"You're dead," Paul informed him in a savage hiss as he slammed the man back into the ground by the neck. The wolf was amused by the way his prey's eyes seemed to pop out of his skull, the way his bloody mouth was wide and gasping soundlessly.

"**Paul! Stop!"** Topher's dire directive buzzed like the bloodlust in his ears and the frantic distant call to 911.

Nothing could stop him

His phone buzzed in his back pocket with its trilling, functional ring.

Except that.

_Bella_.

Freezing for a moment while the fearful men around him all took several stumbling steps back, Paul threw himself back from the pummeled man on the ground. His breath heaving in his chest, his teeth grinding like a rumble, Paul still couldn't tear his enraged gaze from his prey whose hands reflexively came up to the red marks on his neck as he gasped in an unconscious groan.

As he hashed his breath through bared teeth, Paul idly wiped the foam of frenzy from his lips with the back of his wrist and then grabbed his phone from his pocket.

Flipping open the rugged, industrial model. "I'm on my way home, babe," he gasped with no preamble.

"P-Paul, Paul honey…are y- you…" Bella's quavering voice was like a soothing healing balm for the wolf, even stretched thin over worry.

Paul's stomach clenched in shame. "Everything's fine, babe," he whispered hollowly. "See you in a few." He snapped the phone shut, swallowing thickly as he replaced it in his pocket.

Topher was crouched on the ground beside Paul's bloodied victim. All the rest of the crew were standing a safe distance away, various unguarded expressions of shock and terror twisting their faces.

Paul stumbled several steps back as he panted like a racehorse through his teeth, his lips still baring his canines in residual threat as he fought the potent testosterone wash.

Topher caught his gaze. His expression was complex, worried. "Paul. Go home. _Go home to Bella,"_ his rough voice had softened to a compelling velvet croon.

Paul's body jerked at the sound of his imprint's name. His eyes snapped sharply to focus on Topher's lips.

"_**Bella**_, Paul. _Go home to Bella_," he murmured soothingly again. Topher definitely knew more than he had let on.

Paul's body shuddered as he nodded imperceptibly and whipped around to stalk the truck, rage harshly jerking his stride.

Men shamelessly scurried out of the path between him and the parking lot.

His body vibrating with both fury and… _something else_… Paul stalked to the old truck. He wanted nothing more than to just phase and run off this sickening feeling in his gut, but he had to take Bella's pick-up back. She usually came to pick him up, but he had driven today – since his bike was in the shop - … and she needed her truck for tonight. With eerily poignant timing, she was going out for the first time he could remember with her friend from high school. Without him.

Kicking off his boots, he chucked them forcefully into the back of the truck, denting the bed with a bang. Paul threw himself into the cab and slammed the door. For several minutes he sat in the driver's seat, clenching and unclenching his fists on the steering wheel as his ragged breath rasped through his nose. His eyes cut to the baby seat in the cab, graced by the telltale cheerios and a juice cup, and he squeezed them shut in shame.

He had almost killed a _man_.

Paul was all too aware of the beast lurked under the surface of an undreamed of peaceful existence with his mate, his child, his Pack… but having it uncontrollably rear its ugly head had been a painful reminder that - no matter how he wanted to pretend otherwise – he was not normal. He kept this part of himself – shaped by the abusive hand of his childhood and fired in the raging kiln of his supernatural curse –hidden, restrained, repressed. But he had been a fool to let his vigilance wane. He would _never_ be a normal man. It was all just a ruse that he had allowed himself to be lulled into believing.

Paul barked a humorless laugh as he glowered darkly into the review mirror.

"You're just a wolf in sheep's clothing, motherfucker," he murmured to his reflection with a smirk of disgust.

What had tipped the scales of his self control was the fact that the dickhead was right. Bella _was_ too good for him. If it weren't for that preternatural curse and the imprinting chains it had wrapped around her heart, he'd never had a chance.

With increasingly morbid thoughts, Paul ripped the key out of the glove compartment and shoved it into the steering column. The engine he and Jake had replaced turned over with a growl and Paul threw the truck in reverse.

Paul pushed the v-6 engine to the limit on the drive back to Rez. It shimmied and sputtered under his death grip on the wheel. They had replaced everything on this piece of shit several times over and Paul wondered why they bothered. Bella deserved so much better.

Paul drove in a seething frenzy down the potholed roads, his breath a harsh hiss through his bared teeth. As he turned the corner, a snarl curled his lip at the sight of Sam leaning with feigned casualness against his and Emily's mailbox.

He had all intentions of driving right by his Pack mate and close friend, but Sam – knowing him like he did – stepped pointedly into the middle of the gravel driveway.

Paul bared his teeth, but slammed the truck to a stop anyway. Jerking up the parking brake, he rolled down the manual window as Sam came around to the driver's side door and leaned his forearms against the truck with assessing eyes.

"Tophe called you," Paul spat bitterly as he hit his head against the headrest in punctuation.

Sam pursed his lips. "Yeah there was that. And before that Bella's spaz attack," he muttered wryly.

Paul's hands dropped from the steering wheel as his clinging fury slipped from his shoulders like they were made of teflon. "Is she okay?" he rasped hollowly, turning to Sam.

Sam's face softened. "She's fine. She's worried about you," Sam murmured with a grating concern. "_I'm_ worried about you. Tophe said you almost killed him?"

Paul's gaze wordlessly fell to his lap as his shoulders slumped.

"He _also_ said the prick deserved it. If anyone said that shit about Em, I'da messed him up good too."

"But you wouldn't have killed him," Paul mumbled.

Sam drew in a deep breath. "I can't say what I'd of done, Paul…" he said quietly. "It's tricky shit trying deal around humans."

Paul nodded loosely as his fingers picked at the eroding plastic of the steering wheel. His hands were shaking.

The two friends sat in sober silence for several minutes before Sam licked his lips. "So… uh..you doin' …ah… better?" Sam asked almost sheepishly.

The tone of Sam's voice made him look up sharply. Suddenly Paul understood just why Sam was waiting for him at the end of his driveway.

_To protect them. _To protect his own mate and cub from Paul.

The monster.

The comprehension must have flashed across his features, because Sam's gaze dropped like lead to where his arms were folded on the door. Paul's body began to vibrate as the glowing coals of anger and self loathing rekindled in his gut.

"I just wanted to make sure you had chilled out," he diffused apologetically reaching behind him and pulling a wet rag from his pocket. "Y'know, before you saw them. Bella's already a mess and it's ramping Cay up." He cleared his throat softly. "You wanna, ah, wipe that off?"

Paul's burgeoning rage deflated like Sam's words had been a needle. His gaze fell to his hands covered in dried blood. The man's blood he'd almost killed today.

Swallowing thickly pulled the rag into the truck to wipe off his hands and forearms before he saw his mate and child. To hide the shameful evidence of what he'd done. What he was.

The thought that his family might _ever_ need protection from_ him _was sickening.

Paul collapsed his forehead against the steering wheel and blew a breath out from his cheeks as he threw the rag into the footwell.

"I need to see her," he whispered hoarsely.

Because he did. The craving to see his mate was clawing his insides to ribbons like he had swallowed razor blades. It was a yearning that had coiled ever tighter in his gut with each passing minute of the day, before it had exploded out of him in violence.

The heavy warmth of Sam's hand on his shoulder made Paul stiffen. But though his mind wanted to repel such an overture, the wolf was soothed by its need for touch and connection with its Pack. Paul's tension ebbed as his eyes closed in the brief gifted respite.

"I'll hop in back," Sam simply said as his hand slipped back out of the cab. He turned to do so, pointedly avoiding any eye contact; Sam understood the subtleties of dealing with lupine dominance and human vulnerability after all.

Paul rubbed his face briskly as Sam vaulted into the truck bed. Expelling a long, resetting breath, Paul released the parking brake and shifted into drive.

He had to struggle to keep the truck at a sedate pace down the rough gravel driveway. As he pulled into view of the house he saw that many of the Pack were out on the large lawn playing football in the dusk, obviously trying to give the impression that things were casual and normal, even though they were there more for back-up than Emily's dinner.

Panning the group, his gaze quickly met Bella's wide eyes. His mate was, by all appearances, wrapped in a brotherly embrace against Jacob's chest, his long arms folded around her. But Paul's sharp eyes caught the strain in her posture.

Jacob was _restraining_ her.

Paul threw the truck into park and leaped out of the cab without even cutting the engine in his haste.

"P-Paul," Bella whimpered, struggling against those brown, muscled arms.

He slammed the door behind him over the low growl that ripped from his chest as he bared his teeth and took menacing steps toward his Alpha.

Jacob's face was impassive – his nostrils merely flaring at the overt challenge – and his eyes darted past Paul to where Sam jumped down from the truck beside him, leaning in the open window to cut the engine.

"_Sam_…" Paul ground out a warning petition to his friend as his heated gaze bored into his Alpha. He didn't have the bandwidth to deal with this situation on so many levels. He _needed_ her.

With a vicious snarl, Paul ripped his gaze to skewer his friend beside him. But Sam nodded imperceptibly to their Alpha.

Paul whipped back around just in time to catch Bella who sprinted, throwing herself at him as tears overflowed down her cheeks.

"Babe," Paul whispered as he gathered her tiny body to his chest, lifting her feet off the ground. Bella wrapped her legs and her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. Her touch instantly transformed the violence into a slickery cool desire for her body. Closing his eyes and letting his trembling muscles still, Paul released himself to the craving that doused his rage like a magic balm. Bella's soft sobs of relief pulled at the skin on his neck.

Paul wordlessly crooned as he snuffled his mate and his hands rubbed over her back. Bella drew back and rooted his cheek urgently in petition. Their lips met in a searing kiss that burned with her worry and his shame.

"Papa!" Caleb's voice squealed excitedly.

Bella tore her lips away from his, but didn't let him go. She rested her forehead against his jaw as Paul's attention snapped to where Leah was carrying their son out of the house, Emily following holding Raven on her hip.

Bella didn't turn to greet them. "Are you okay honey?" she breathed, warm against his neck.

Paul nodded and leaned his cheek into her.

Leah crossed the lawn slowly, teasing the bouncy toddler with raspberry kisses and giving them time. Jacob flanked both women, his face severe, arms crossed over his chest in flagrant Alpha warning. A small part of Paul was annoyed as shit, but the lion's share was glad Jacob was taking such good care of his mate and child.

Since Paul couldn't.

"Papa-Papa-Papa!" Caleb chanted in an excited crescendo.

Like closing an overstuffed suitcase, Paul smashed both his angst and its antidote desire below the surface as his son reached out his tiny arms. "C'mere little boy," Paul growled softly as he repositioned Bella's still-clinging body in one arm.

She had still not resurfaced from her anxiety enough to turn and play the part of reassuring mother. The fact that she was so focused on him and his need – albeit knowing her child was in the care of their Pack– soothed some deep part of his soul. She may be a mother, and a damn good one at that, but she was also still his mate.

He wrapped his arm around the child as he was hoisted up by Leah and the boy threw his arms around Paul's neck.

"You were gone 'long time, Papa," Caleb said solemnly before collapsing against Paul's shoulder.

"Yes he was," Bella agreed, laying her cheek against Paul's other shoulder as her hand came up to brush her son's wispy curls back from his forehead. "Too long."

"Papa, we got to watch TV and there was this funny show…" Caleb began recounting the details of his day, the highlight of which was getting to watch the rare video this afternoon – to distract him from the drama, if Paul had to guess.

Paul took several steps back with his family in his arms and leaned on the warm bumper of the truck. Bella sighed contentedly against him, idly stroking the nape of his neck as his child babbled away happily. In the loving innocence of the moment, Paul felt like some kind of imposter. The beast had laid down in surrender to its family, but still it lurked. Waiting, always waiting.

"…and we're getting mac n' chee for dinner!" he finished with the exciting news of his and Raven's favorite dish.

"Uncle Chee!" Raven giggled from Emily's arms at their pet nickname for Jacob – the big cheese himself.

Caleb turned with a lopsided grin that was like looking in the mirror for Paul. "_Uncle_ mac-n-Chee…we're gonna eat you Uncle Chee!"

Jacob set aside his bodyguard routine to mock stagger in an over-the-top melodramatic terror - as only he could do - that had both children laughing.

Paul couldn't enjoy the dorky humor. As soon as his son's attention had refocused, he felt like he had wilted again under the weight of his shame and its counterpart depression.

And Bella felt it. "Cay," Bella's hand rubbed over the boy's back. "Papa and I are going to take a little walk, 'kay?"

Caleb whipped around, his laughter instantly dwindling to a worried frown. "B-but…I wanna come on a walk… I wanna stay with Papa…" he complained, his voice quavering slightly. He was a sensitive child – just like Paul had been – and even in his simple toddler way undoubtedly understood the subtext the Pack was trying so fervently to spare him.

"What! And miss eating Uncle Cheese?" Sam stepped in and grabbed the boy up into distracting tickles. "Don't you want to _eat with the Pack_?" he added with dramatic emphasis.

"At the _Woof Table?"_ Caleb's eyes got wide as he glanced between his father and Sam incredulously.

That Sam was smart. He knew that sitting at the "wolf table" was an irresistible temptation that would win over the boy. Caleb and Raven usually sat at the "cub table" – a kid-sized card table in the corner of the living room – with Bella, Emily and now Kim (their fathers drifting between the two rooms). It was just easier to sequester the cubs off as the Pack grew; they didn't get caught in the crossfire of the feeding frenzy or the considerably tamer these days, but still raunchy, repartee.

Paul's eyes darted to Sam's knowing gaze with a subtle nod of approval.

"Just for tonight. Think you can handle the big leagues, boy?" Sam asked with feigned solemnity.

Caleb nodded enthusiastically.

"Me! Me!" Emily lowered Raven to her feet and she threw herself onto her father's leg.

Sam stooped to scoop her up. "Of course, little one," he smiled and kissed her on the nose.

Something in Paul's chest did an unhappy flip. He wished he was like Sam: stable, easy… safe. Sam had always wanted to be a father – even though he hadn't had the best of examples – it was as much a part of who he was as the wolf. Paul had never thought of having kids before Bella, but she had made him want them with a vengeance. When she had given him a son, his absolute wonder had squelched any trepidation a thousand times over. And he had fathered the way he did anything: _intensely_, with everything he had. Paul never did anything halfway.

And he _loved_ being a Papa.

But after what had happened today, he felt like his very being tainted the purity of such a blessing. He was a counterfeit, a phony… someone who was stealing moments that were far too innocent and good for someone like him. A thousand memories and effigies of his childhood - which he had thought he and Bella together had buried– popped back up to bob shamelessly at the surface with all their vibrant, humiliating glory.

"You're an awesome Papa and we love you," Bella whispered in his ear, in eerily poignant rebuttal to his thoughts.

Paul squeezed his eyes shut in chagrin. He should have been used to the psychic gifts of their unusual imprint bond, but it still caught him off guard almost every single time.

With a loving kiss to his jaw, Bella wiggled and Paul let her slide down his body to stand.

"So you're going to eat dinner with the Pack, honey?" Bella asked as she crossed to her child in Sam's arms. The child reached out and grasped his mother's shoulders with transparent stress. But instead of gathering him into her arms, Bella pointedly leaned in to kiss the boy's chin. "I think it'll be fun," she whispered reassuringly.

"We'll bring him home after dinner," Emily murmured out of the side of him mouth, rubbing her hand down Bella's arm comfortingly and subtly loosening the child's clinging grasp in her shirt.

His son glanced up anxiously at his father and Paul nodded with an approving wink. The boy's brow dipped – as if he understood clearly what was being asked of him (and Paul just betted he did) - and he bravely released the frantic grip on his mother.

"Okay, mommy," the little boy said entirely too soberly for his four years. He wrapped his arms around his uncle's neck with another canny glance to his father. Paul swallowed over his shame and closed his eyes.

At the gentle hand on his arm, Paul opened them again to Bella's worried gaze. "Let's go," she said quietly, letting her fingers ghost over his quivering forearm to grasp his hand.

Paul exhaled a resigned sigh and allowed his mate to tug him away from the concerned glances of his pack. He focused on Bella's small hand in his and breathing through the suffocating shame. As they disappeared from the watchful eyes of the wolves and the forced sound of their teasing for the cubs, Paul's shoulders relaxed into a dejected slump. The rough crunching sound of the dirt road under Bella's feet and the unconcerned birdsong overtook the squealing laughter of his son and Raven as Paul's mind spun with a velocity that gave him vertigo.

He had almost _killed_ a man. It would have been so incredibly easy. He actually couldn't believe that he had had the presence of mind to control his inhuman strength as much as he had.

And now under the tumbling aftermath he realized that it didn't stop there. There would be consequences. Aside from the shame and fear - the confirmation that he was too much of a monster to walk among men and the singular one of the Pack who could not blend into the human world - there would be repercussions for what he had done. Suddenly he realized why Bella was pulling him down the country road to their house. Her father, his father-in-law, would probably be coming to their house to arrest him.

And he wouldn't be able to do it. To spend days and nights behind the bars of a human cage away from Bella? His wolf wouldn't be able to bear it even if the man could, which he couldn't. When Charlie tried to slap the laughably flimsy handcuffs on his wrist, stuff him into the back of his cruiser, Paul had no illusions of what would happen…

"Dad called. He and Topher convinced him not to press charges," Bella said quietly –reading his thoughts again.

Paul's attention instantly snapped to his imprint walking beside him. Her beautiful face was turned up to his, her assessing eyes filled with concern, compassion… and unfettered love. Always compassion and love.

Paul licked his lips and released her hand to snake his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side. She was the only comfort he had. His mate, his lover, his best friend...

"I told dad that we'd take care of the hospital bills," she continued, her head tipped all the way back so as she looked steadily into his eyes. "He's got a broken jaw..uh …and _other_ _stuff_… "

"Good," Paul hissed over an unrpentant growl, the lupine contempt rising over his humiliation. "Maybe it'll shut that fucker up for a while."

Instead of reprimanding him, Bella sighed heavily and leaned her head against his chest as she continued to walk beside him.

"I missed you so much," Bella interjected as their modest house came into view. "I'm gonna call Jessica. I don't want to go to that stupid bachelorette thing tonight."

Paul stopped abruptly in his tracks, several paces in front of their little porch that his mate had enlivened with potted herbs and hanging plants. She had brought so much life to his sorry existence. And here he was taking life again from hers.

"No," he ground out through his gritted teeth.

Bella pulled away, looking up at him with a worried frown. "Paul…" she began.

"No," he repeated firmly. "Just because **I'm** too fucked up to let out of the house-"

"You're not f-… you're not messed up," Bella countered with vehemence though her tongue snagged on the curse.

Paul barked a laugh. "I almost fucking killed a guy, Bella!" he laughed with a maniacal edge. "I almost fucking _murdered_ him! And I woulda if you hadn't called!" he dropped her hand, shoving his fingers through his hair as his eyes raked the ground. "I couldn't stop – and sure as hell no one was going to be able to stop me –just _you_! If you hadn't called…" his voice shredded hoarsely into silence.

"But I did," Bella stated quietly. "That's why you have an impri-"

"Fuck that!" Paul growled. "You shouldn't have to babysit me so I don't fucking rip a man to shreds. I have this animal… this _beast_… inside of me! You don't understand what it's like! You _can't_ understand! What happens if I lost it with _Caleb_… or _you_… or…fuck! What if I didn't have my phone…or…" With frightening strength his repressed angst was churning to the surface in a rolling boil. "I'm an animal, Bella! Nothing more!" Paul's body was quivering, his wolf fighting its way to the surface. He careened several steps back as he panted frantically against the burning craving to phase.

"Paul," Bella's voice was serene and steady.

Paul's heated yellow gaze met her fathomless eyes. "You deserve better than this, Bella. You deserve a man like Sam… Hell, who'm I kidding? If it wasn't for this curse, you wouldn't even _be_ with -"

"Sweetie," she interrupted quietly taking several fearless steps toward his trembling body. "_Stop_."

He staggered back from her on unsteady feet, but Bella reached out her hand, splaying it on his bare chest. Her touch was like water, instantly quenching the flames of confusion, fear and fury. Paul gasped and his entire body froze as if bound by steel hawsers – an imperative a thousand times more potent than even his Alpha's command.

"Honey," she whispered taking several more steps until her body was inches from his as her other palm rested on his heaving pec. "You're right. I don't understand. But I know you. I _know_ you, Paul. And you're not just built to kill. You _love_ so well, sweetie. _So well_..." she soothed, pressing her body against his and resting her cheek against his hammering heart.

With an about-face that gave him emotional whiplash, Paul's entire being melted into molten desire at the feel of the slight curve of her breasts pressing into his stomach and his arms circled her body possessively.

"Imprint or not, I wouldn't choose anyone but you. You're an awesome Papa, a wonderful husband, my best friend," Bella continued in a mesmerizing croon. She tipped her head back, resting her chin against the chill bumps that raced over his skin. "My only lover," she breathed, looking him dead in the eye.

Paul swallowed thickly against the blistering need for her body that railed against his control. She could also never understand just how he burned for her.

Bella's small hands smoothed sensuously up over his collar bone, tracing with delicate fingers the perspiration-slicked lines of muscle and bone. Her hypnotic gaze held his as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his sternum while she ghosted her palms down his quivering biceps and Paul tightened his grip at the small of her back.

She hadn't cut her hair over the years – for him, he knew – and her long braid bumped against his knuckles as she rubbed her nose over one of his nipples, making his hips jerk with the jolt to his every synapse.

_Mine. _

The word rumbled so deep in his being he wasn't sure if it left his lips. His hand tugged the band off the end of the braid and then climbed up the thick chord of hair, weaving through plait and splaying it out into the three rippling strands. One hand still on the feminine swell of her hips, he combed through the locks with his fingers freeing those heavy waves that always seemed to defy gravity. They tumbled down her back, curling at her waist.

Bella sumptuously licked lips that curved into a sexy half smile and Paul's breath caught as his fingers grasped bare flesh in the enticing swath between her jeans and baby doll tee.

_Mine. Take._

Lust rose in him with a growl of pure animalism as he bent to press his mouth to hers, contorting his height to keep as much skin in contact with hers. The touch of her lips was like an injection of some kind of narcotic and his blood leached fire through his veins. With a groan, his hands closed around her waist, pulling her up his body as she wrapped her legs around him, her hands raking through his hair.

_Take_.

The imperative of his body was suffocating as he ravished her mouth. He was seconds away from throwing her down in the leaves and taking her right then and there in front of their house when he felt as much as heard her soft cry of pain.

Muffled by his gorging mouth, still it was undeniable. Suddenly he realized just how tightly he held her to his burning body. His fingers were digging into her delicate softness, his palm grinding her hips into his painful arousal.

With a gasp, he released her like she was made of the most fragile glass, carefully disengaging himself and setting her on the ground in front of him. Paul rubbed his face, desperately trying to rouse himself from the sucking undertow of carnal lust.

"Paul?" Bella's voice quavered over her own galloping breath.

"No," Paul breathed, shaking his head slowly. "No…" Eyes wide, he took several unsteady steps backwards.

"H-honey…" she murmured in reassurance, but he saw the way the residual pain pulled at her brow though she tried to hide it. He _saw_.

"I-I can't…" he wheezed hoarsely. His body was burning for satiation with a white-hot need. But he couldn't ever take her like this. He _wouldn't_.

He'd lost control with her once and swore on his life that he'd never, **ever** do so again. Especially after those horrible dark days of what she had endured at the hands of the leech – and he hadn't protected her from – it just wasn't going to happen while he still had a heartbeat.

But here he was. So close. So very fucking close.

His breath was rasping harshly through his teeth, his body vibrating with want as he stared into Bella's eyes, glistening with tears and rejection.

"P-Paul…" her lips quivered.

Paul's jaw clenched with the effort. "Go inside, Bella," he growled low. "_Now_."

He _needed_ her to leave. _She had to leave. _He wouldn't be able to turn away way on his own. He _knew_. Oh his resolve was a single hair, stretched taut between his heart and his body.

Clenching his fists against reaching out to grab her back into her arms – all attempts at restraint be damned - his feet took a step toward her on their own.

"Bella. _Now_," he spat desperately through gritted teeth.

Eyes wide and heartbreaking sobs shaking her shoulders, Bella nodded briskly, and then turned on her heel, running lightly up the few steps to the porch.

Only when she had slammed the door behind her, could Paul tear his gaze from her fleeing form. A deafening roar of frustration burst from his lips and without a second thought he exploded into fur and fang.

And Paul ran.

'

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><p>'<p>

Review if you like.


	4. Unanswerable Questions

**4 – Unanswerable Questions**

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><p>'<p>

A harsh scratching and a whine threaded under Bella's galloping sobs. She lifted her tear-stained face from the couch and sniffled miserably. Another plaintive muffled whimper and a soft thud against the front door had Bella peeling herself up from where she had collapsed on the floor. Wiping her cheeks impatiently, she stumbled across the main room of the little cottage, and fell against the door. She yanked it open to find the hulking gray wolf cowering on its haunches on the porch, its head collapsed on its forepaws.

For the first time she could ever remember, the animal's ever-present confidence was submerged under an insecure expression that pulled its ears pitifully flat. Usually, even if the man was confused, troubled or mired in his human crap, the _animal_ was still bold and brash. But this time, even that imperious lupine dominance that he bore on those broad shoulders was breaking under his worries and cowing him to the ground.

"Oh, Wolf," Bella sighed to those sorrowful yellow eyes as she squatted and held her arms out invitingly. Always gentle, it had never given her the slightest reason to fear the massive and imposing beast. Even less so than the man; Bella had become comfortable with his wolf before Paul himself afterall.

But that didn't mean she ever for a second lost the timorous respect for its pure, wild power. She always waited for it to come to her. On its terms.

The wolf blinked its doleful eyes and whined again piteously as the muscles in its back bunched up as if it both wanted to run to her and… turn on its heel. It was a physical representation of the conflict roiling inside her mate.

"C'mere, honey. Everything's okay," she whispered.

Like its leash had snapped, the beast lunged forward into her arms, his sheer size throwing her off balance and onto her back. The animal hesitated with a stricken expression, but Bella reached up and threw her arms around the massive neck, lifting herself off the floor as she clasped it to her fiercely and buried her face in the thick, sweet fur.

The power of touch and their imprint soothed both girl and wolf and Bella found herself sobbing again in relief over the reassuring purr as the animal relaxed against her. She was so incredibly glad that humiliation could not override the wolf's instinctive need to be with its imprint the way it had Paul's. They _needed_ to be together right now. She _knew_ it.

Just like she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that spending too long apart and in a human environment was the culprit for his loss of control today.

_Because Paul wasn't human. _

Trying to pretend otherwise had disastrous results as they had so witnessed today. Bella pulled back and ran her hands over the wolf's ears – still pinned back submissively - and her eyes washed over the animal's face as if seeing him for the first time.

This was her lover, her soul-mate, her husband. A supernatural shape-shifter with the soul of a beast. Even though her life was so interwoven in the fabric of the Pack that she couldn't even remember what her normal human life had been like before Paul, the insight hit her hard and deep: their souls were a constant battlefield between man and beast.

It was something that she could never truly comprehend; a place where she couldn't follow him.

That thought made her heart ache.

"I wish I could understand it all better, Paul," she murmured her heart aloud as she absently traced the velvety skin of the wolf's mouth, contrasting with his vicious fangs. "I'm a sucky mate."

She huffed a breath out through her cheeks as the wolf cocked its head with the earnest expression she loved that made its forehead wrinkle and its ears bunch up.

Paul must have retreated too far below the animal's instinct in his despair; it looked like the wolf was struggling to understand the human words. Paul, the man, would have rebuked her, but the wolf always just seemed to take things as they came. She liked that about the animal – it gave her a freedom from worrying about the effect of her words so that she could speak things that she had trouble even speaking to herself.

She was a tiny, skinny, weak, boring (and self-critical) woman. Not a strong and worthy heroine who was able to stand at his side through the violent storms that rolled through his very soul. Some "soul mate" she was.

And Paul knew it; he was always _so very careful_ with her. He had never once lost himself to that dark, animalistic passion that she knew boiled in his veins. Because he was afraid.

Afraid to show that part of him that he warred with on a daily basis and that was so central to all that was both good and challenging in him. Because he was _afraid he would break her_.

She was a crappy soul mate, that's what. Even now she was stewing in her own regret instead of helping him slay his demons.

Shaking her head with disgust, Bella sat up and tried to shimmy out from under that giant barrel chest.

The wolf's eyes popped open and narrowed on her sharply.

"Let me get up," she mumbled, trying – completely unsucessfully – to free herself from the carefully measured bulk pressing her down.

"Woooo-wooo-wooo…." The wolf's lips pursed into a perfect O as it howled low.

Bella tried to hide her smile. Though pitiful, its attempts at a quiet howl was just too cute.

"Shh… I'm just gonna get the S.P.B." That smile cracked her face in half at the interested perk of the animal's ears. It knew _that_ human word: the infamous "stupid plastic brush"… or _SPB_ as Bella had dubbed it after Paul's embarrassed macho epithet.

With a warm, moist huff, the animal allowed her to untangle herself and she pushed off the ground, stumbling as the massive head pushed against her. It didn't seem to want to let any distance come between them as it trailed so closely that it panted into the crook of her neck as she crossed the small main room to the shelf where the brush was kept at the ready. Even on the best of days, Paul had to Phase at least once, as the tremor in his hands and clench in his jaw told her every single time.

And he tried to hide each and every time.

She would grab up the brush and sit in the middle of the living room – which she kept sparse and open just for this purpose – and enter into the silent battle of wills.

At least it was _one_ battle she always won.

And when Caleb was around it was even easier to coax surrender. Like he had some sixth sense, her son would stop whatever he was doing and prance over excitedly to sit in his mother's lap, usually with a bouncing toddler chant of "Papa Woof! Papa Woof!"

With a small smile at the image, Bella picked up the brush.

"C'mere sweetie," Bella crooned turning around and starting at the surprise proximity of those gleaming fangs at eyelevel. But Bella wasn't worried - not in the least. No matter how much Paul feared himself, Bella _knew_ neither the man nor the wolf would _ever_ hurt her.

Well, not intentionally. They were just so very strong; she wished she weren't so fragile.

The wolf dropped to its haunches with a long sigh of fatigue and Bella knelt that the beast's side. Pressing her cheek against the massive shoulder, she began pushing the bristles through the soft, thick pelt.

With each draw of the brush through the wolf's fur, Bella relaxed. And so did the wolf: it stretched out along its side, baring its belly to her soothing ministrations. Her movements slowing, Bella lost herself in the warmth seeping through the thick undercoat and the beast's low contented rumble. Bella sighed softly into the gifted moment of peace.

But after only a few measly minutes, the cell in her back pocket shattered the spell.

With an annoyed huff, she pulled it out and flipped it open with one hand while the other continued to soothe the animal's coat who hadn't moved a muscle.

"Hello?"

"Bella! It's Jess!"

Bella's shoulders deflated as her hand stilled incidentally in the fur. _Jessica_. Her "bachelorette party" was tonight. _Damn_.

"Hey Jess," Bella mumbled. She felt guilty: she should have called her earlier to let her know she couldn't make it, but she had been…ah, kind of distracted.

"Hey girl! I'm just calling to make sure you don't bag on us tonight," Jessica warned.

"Uh…" Bella replied eloquently.

"Oh, no you don't! You'd better not do this to me, Bella Swan," she hissed.

"Lahote," Bella corrected.

"Oh, yeah. 'Low-tee'," Jessica capitulated with her usual mispronunciation. It wasn't an accident.

"La –ho-tay," she groaned as she absently pushed off the floor and turned her back on the wolf in her frustration. To say Bella was annoyed by her high school friend's disapproval of her husband was the understatement of a lifetime. She didn't know why she kept up the façade of this relationship – except that it was her only real tie to the "normal" human world other than Charlie, and even he was practically a part of the Pack. Her only _real_ friend from high school, Angela, had moved to California for college. And stayed there – relegated to emails and Facebook posts.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," Jessica mumbled. _Not_. "But no way can you bag, Bella. Ange just got in and's coming straight from the airport and she'll freak if you're not there," she whined mercilessly. "C'mon, you already bailed on being a bridesmaid."

Bella had used the excuse of Caleb and Paul to bow out of all the fuss of rehearsals and dresses and the rest of the wedding nightmare. Aside from her ambivalence about Jessica, she had never been the kind of girl who enjoyed taffeta and tulle. Her own wedding had been a family affair on the beach: an unapologetic baby bump rounding her belly under the simple flowered sundress, barefoot in the lapping waves and holding Paul's hand.

In other words,_ perfection_.

But Jessica was, predictably, going all out with her and Mike Newton's wedding. Even though – as mean and cynical as it sounded – Bella doubted their marriage would last the decade. They were both so… flighty.

But especially after today -even though she really wanted to see Angela – she just couldn't handle the rest of it. And she didn't think Paul could either.

"I'm sorry, Jess. I'm just not feeling so- "

"I want you to go," a deep voice rumbled in her ear, and Bella whipped around in surprise.

Paul had silently phased and was staring at her from under a furrowed brow, his fists quivering at his side.

Bella swallowed uncomfortably. She could _feel_ his agitation.

She put a hand over the speaker. "Paul… I-… we-"

He shook his head in a clipped, terse movement. "_Go_. You should get to have _some_ kinda fucking _normal_ in this shitty life," he bit out in a whisper.

She understood that he was still feeling raw after his "slip" and their extended separation, but being apart again was the _last_ thing they both needed. She licked her lips and prepared to tell him so.

"Please," his voice was hoarse as his eyes squinted with a desperation she'd never seen on his face.

Bella's heart literally ached at such an expression. He was dying for things to be "normal." Bella had a flashback to those dark days after her abuse at the crazed hands of Edward. "Normal" had never been so important to her after something that had shaken her world.

Just like now… for Paul.

Bella's hand shot out to his rest against his chest soothingly as she nodded and brought the phone back to her cheek.

"Alright, Jess. But I'm not feeling that hot, so I'm not gonna stay long, kay?" Bella smoothed her palm over Paul's quivering pec.

"Awesome! Just wait… after a few martinis you'll be feeling a whole hell of a lot better!" she gushed.

Bella made absent sounds of assent through the rest of Jessica's rambling monologue about karaoke and pool at the infamous "Cliff's Dive" while Bella gazed into Paul's wild, bloodshot eye. He had calmed down considerably since when he had first gotten home, but he was still only marginally in control.

At last Jessica thankfully announced she had another call coming in. "See you in a few -...," Bella was cut off in Jessica's enthusiastic haste. Flipping the phone shut, she shoved it in her back pocket and turned fully to her husband.

Paul's nostrils flared with each uneven breath as he silently returned her stare. "Thanks," he mumbled finally. His body was still trembling.

Bella took a step toward him and ghosted her palm over his shoulder. "Sweetie…" she whispered. Truthfully she didn't know what to say. Words seemed so inadequate. _She_ felt so inadequate.

But she knew what she _could_ offer him.

She took another step so that her body was inches from his heaving chest. Her arms snaked up around his neck as she leaned in and dragged her lips seductively across his chest. Her tongue darted out to taste his slick, salty skin and Paul's breath caught audibly in his throat as chill bumps raced down his body.

"Mmm," she hummed into his musky scent, her eyelids growing heavy as their chemistry poured over her like honey. She took the last half step so that her body was pressed against his nude form. Whenever she touched him, his body instantly proclaimed its arousal proudly. It made her feel good; like she could do _something_ right by him at least. She rubbed against him and his resistance disintegrated just a little bit more as his arms encircled her and pulled her closer.

His entire body was quaking.

Dropping kiss after kiss over his chest, Bella's hands traced over the tension in his neck and shoulders, squeezing the rock-hard muscles temptingly.

Tipping her head up – she was just so damn short and he so tall – she saw that his face was lifted to the ceiling, his teeth biting his lower.

"Paul…" she crooned breathily. "_Please_…."

He made a strange little sound in the back of his throat and licked his lips, tipping his head reluctantly down to meet her gaze. "_No_," he gasped, though his hands splayed rebelliously over her back. "C-can't. No control."

His clipped words and resistance made her heart do and unhappy flip. This was the _one_ thing she _could_ give him in his private maelstrom.

_Herself_.

So she pressed on. One of her hands slipped down to grasp the velvet-sheathed iron of his erection between them.

"Part of you begs to differ," she raised a coy brow, ignoring the heart-clenching pain of rejection from her imprint.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as his eyes briefly rolled in his head.

Bella smiled.

But then his body jerked – as if flailing against the heady rapids of their chemistry - and his eyes suddenly focused in hers. His face grimacing with the effort, his hand snapped to her wrist and pulled it up to press against his heart.

Bella was stunned.

And hurt.

He had never refused her before. This was all she had to offer. All she could do, and he refused it?

Paul cocked his head as a brow dipped. "You fucking give me so much more than just sex, Bella," he murmured quietly.

Bella blinked and took an automatic step back. "You're reading me!" she accused in a gust of breath.

Paul's lips pursed as he regarded her, his tremors stilling at her unexpected reaction. One shoulder lifted with a subtle shrug. "That's a problem?" he asked quietly.

Bella turned out of his arms and Paul instantly released her. "Well, maybe I want a little privacy!"

They had both naturally accepted – without question or complaint - the psychic gifts that popped up between them along with all the other supernatural insanity.

Until now.

When had she ever thought she needed _privacy_ from her mate? When she felt so useless, that's when.

She rubbed her face in frustration. "I mean… I feel so helpless! You can-… You-… I can't stand to see you suffering!" Bella's words tumbled over themselves in a jumbled mess with her own anxiety as her gaze raked the floor. "You have to hold it all in 'cause I'm not strong enough. I know you do! It's not fair!"

She looked back up to see Paul watching her with that same intense expression. He tucked his head and his nostrils flared once. Twice.

"I couldn't help when Caleb was born," he said quietly, looking up from under his long straight lashes.

Bella knew what he was saying. They had both seen their gifts take the other's pain and heal. Except at their child's birth. Except then.

"That's different!" Bella shrilled. "I should be able to help you with this stuff! Jeesh… I-… I-"

"I feel so fucked up right now, Bella!" Paul interrupted her racing thoughts, his voice instantly vaulting up to a near yell. "I could hurt you without even meaning to… I almost _killed_ a guy today! And he's fucking four times your size!"

She knew they were dealing with a jumble of deep-seated issues on both sides that lay latent under the lull of the everyday, but Bella could barely see straight at this point

"Maybe I don't give a damn about my weak, lame-assed human life!" she cried.

The words shocked them both.

Bella sucked in a breath as her hand clapped over her mouth. For a whole minute they stared at each other.

"Little girl," Paul breathed finally as he opened his arms in invitation.

Bella didn't have to be asked twice. She threw herself into his embrace and buried her face in his chest as his strong arms enveloped her. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. Some big help she was: she was just throwing more mud in his already turbulent seas.

"Shh," he murmured as his large palm smoothed over her hair. "Hush, babe."

It was then that Bella realized she was crying. For exactly what she wasn't sure. For Paul's pain? For her stupidity? For the pining ache they had to endure whenever one was away from the other?

It all just seemed hopeless right now.

Paul's fingers came down under her chin to pry it up to his worried face. "My mess is not your responsibility," he whispered as his eyes darted intensely between hers.

"Yes it is," Bella breathed, sniffling wretchedly.

Paul squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, his voice was quiet and defeated. "There are some things we both have to face alone, babe. You just still being here helps a whole hell of a lot."

Bella collapsed her cheek against his pec and huffed a breath out of her cheeks. This was such a mess and right now that there was simply no help for it. She could feel his body – trembling again in her embrace – and the unresolved need that burned him hollow in denying himself for her.

For her weakness. For his fear.

"C'mere," Paul crooned as he pulled her toward their beat-up, second-hand couch. He stretched out on the huge seven-footer and pulled her down on top of him.

Bella nestled her hands up between them as he wrapped his arms oh, so gently around her. She glanced up at his face - his eyes were closed and he was carefully measuring his breath through his nose, trying desperately to calm himself.

With a sigh, she pressed her cheek into his shoulder… and did the same.

'

'

Bella's hands shook on the wheel as she navigated the 20 minutes of dark roads toward the infamous Cliff's Dive. It was a little joint on the edge of town that was popular with the college students and boasted of all the proper bar amenities: karaoke, pool, loud music and cheap beer.

Suffice it to say, she'd never been there.

And with each passing mile she was wishing just a little more that it had stayed that way. The usual yearning pull when she left Paul tugged at her heart strings just a little fiercer this evening and trying to resist the urge to just turn around was making her break into a cold sweat. The love and chemistry of an imprinted relationship certainly had innumerable blessings, but this certainly wasn't one of them.

As she drove along the cliffs, Bella glanced over the ocean at the half moon hung over the dark waters, yellow and huge and staring at her like some squinting malevolent eye. She shivered inadvertently. _What was up with her?_

Bella impatiently pushed away the little tendrils that were stuck to the beads of perspiration on her forehead. She couldn't shake this ominous feeling this evening. There were plenty of reasonable explanations like the usual jitters whenever Paul and she were apart. Or the fact that she could count on one hand the number of times she had socialized outside of the Pack in the same number of years.

Or maybe simply the fact she and Paul had fought tonight.

They rarely fought. And _never_ like that.

Sam and Emily had brought Caleb over after dinner and with one glance at their identical expressions of worry and Paul had turned on his heel and retreated to the study. Bella had distracted Caleb with the bathtime routine that his father usually headed up. As she was putting on his pajamas Paul had silently slipped into the boy's room to read the requisite bedtime book with no more than a whispered "you need to get ready" as he passed.

And then slathered on a dutiful smirk complete with playful growl for their toddler, chasing him around the room in their son's favorite game and instantly making amends with the child.

Time. Maybe they just needed a little time.

It was the only thing he'd let her give him right now.

A little too soon, Fork's only real slice of true nightlife came into view: a ramshackle building at the side of the road strung with Christmas lights and neon, and bored Forks residents had all made their Friday night pilgrimage. Bella swallowed the bitter taste of foreboding in the back of her throat, and pulled the truck up on the far edge of the jam-packed parking lot. She yanked out the key and tossed it into the glove compartment and checked the time on her phone. Eleven o'clock was exactly sixty minutes from now and the magic hour that she could dig with a clear conscience.

Bella could only gift him an hour.

With a sigh of resignation, she shimmied the phone back into her jeans and grabbed up the gift bag. Did you bring a gift to a bachelorette party? She thought she'd err on the side of generous.

Bella kicked open the old truck's door and the sound of a raucous Friday night wafted over her with the cool evening air. Music beat out a muffled thud under the high drunken laughter and loud conversations that bled across the dark parking lot. Worrying her lip, she slipped down to the gravel and slammed the door behind her.

"You're late," a drawl crept up behind her.

She recognized that voice...

Bella spun around, sucking in a breath that felt like it inflated her seizing heart. There leaning against the bumper of her red truck was … _Jasper_.

Heedlessly dropping both her purse and the gift to the ground in shock, an automatic hand clapped over her neck.

"'Evenin' Bella," he tipped his head with a casualness that belied the intense wash of his gaze.

Bella's entire body went numb.

"H-how… d-did you find me," a high hoarse voice quavered. Bella suddenly realized it was her own.

"Facebook," Jasper's lips peeled back slowly in a wry grin.

_Ah, that's right - Jessica's Facebook invitation_, her sluggish mind stuttered over the ridiculously irrelevant trivia.

Her phone's vibrating ring was like a defibrillator, and she jumped as her heart sprinted back into action.

_Paul_.

Taking several stumbling steps back, her hands fumbled for the device.

Jasper shifted his weight with a frown. "I think you'll be wantin' hear me out before you take that call, darlin'," he murmured with a warning edge to his voice.

Bella froze indecisively as the phone rang another round, buzzing in her hand. Gulping, she pressed the silencing button on the side.

He nodded in approval and his lips evened out into a what was probably intended to be a reassuring smile as he took a step toward her.

Bella scrabbled backward, predictably tripping on the gift bag and catching herself against the bed of the truck.

"No need to fuss…. I don't mean don't mean y'any harm, darlin'," he crooned.

A sudden peace settled over her like warm honey…

...and Bella's entire body jerked as she pushed off the truck.

"No!" she nearly screamed. "Don't!"

Jasper froze. "Sure thing," he replied softly.

Immediately the calm receded leaving her again high and dry on jagged terror.

Bella desperately tried rein in her wildly flailing mind. "Wh-what do you –"

She was cut short again by the ring of her phone. Her gaze snapped dully to the object in her hand as if she'd never seen such a thing.

_Oh yeah. Phone. Paul. _He was feeling her anxiety and if she didn't do something, Paul would be down here in a New York minute.

The _last_ thing she wanted was to share this nightmare with him.

That sobering thought sliced through her panic, and she silenced the phone again, her gaze again finding Jasper's. She didn't want her mate in danger. No, never again.

"Wait a sec," she whispered, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. Turning, she leaned back against the truck to steady herself and flipped the phone open to text. Her numb fingers typed clumsily on the numeric keypad.

"I-m—O-K-.- C-u- s-o-o-n.-L-u-v—u."

"You'd probably make a fortune selling that antique on E-bay," Jasper sniffed a chuckle as he watched her, presumably with an attempt at humor.

Bella flipped the phone closed and glared.

Jasper gave her a cheeky grin and hopped up on the hood of the truck.

Shoving the phone in her pocket, she felt the answering buzz of Paul's reply. Her heart felt like it was trying to chew its way out of her chest. Shoving her hands through her hair, she cleared her throat.

"Ok, you can do it," she mumbled resentfully.

Jasper raised his brow.

Bella rolled her eyes in irritation. "_That_ _thing_. If I don't chill out soon, he'll come get me no matter what," she capitulated through gritted teeth. "And I don't want him _anywhere_ _near_ you," she bit out.

Jasper smiled disarmingly as a wash of tranquility fluttered over her. "I don't want him anywhere near me either, come to think about it."

Taking a deep breath of the fraudulent calm, Bella rolled her shoulders and closed her eyes to reset.

When she opened them again, Jasper had leaned back on his hands on the hood and was making no excuses for his appreciative stare.

"The years have treated you well, Bella," he whispered with a soft quirk to his lips. "How've you been?"

Bella struggled to gather her scattered wits. "What do you want," she snapped but his thrall dulled the question.

"It's not what_ I_ want, it's what do _you_ want?" he came back with a cool raise to his brow.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Look, I can't deal with _games_, Jasper… just…"

With a heavy sigh, Jasper's shoulders slumped and he hopped down from the truck. Bella stiffened and took a jerky step back.

"Look darlin'," he said quietly, ignoring the way her body still trembled even under his spell. "To be plain, there's trouble brewin'. Serious kind."

His earnestness instantly had Bella's attention.

"What?" Bella breathed, her eyes searching his. He was worried… and afraid and she'd never seen such uncertainty in a vampire's eyes. Especially Jasper's. Bella's heart thudded uncomfortably against her ribs.

Jasper closed his eyes dolefully for a moment. "Did Edward ever tell you about the Volturi?" he sighed.

That name stung like a slap. _Edward_.

Gulping, she tried to dodge the blow. "Th-the what?"

"Volturi," he repeated quietly.

"The vampire monarchy?" Bella rasped with a quick nod as her eyes blinked furiously against the parade of ugly dark memories that rose up all the same with that name.

"Yes. An ancient and powerful coven," Jasper affirmed, taking another step toward her.

Her gaze focused quickly at his movement and she stiffened. "Don't come any closer," she hissed. It was ridiculous, but Bella needed to maintain at least the _illusion_ of control or she'd go mad. Madder.

Jasper held up placating hands, even as he continued in a whispered monotone aimed at keeping her calm. "They're coming for you, darlin'. And I wanted to give you a chance to decide how to handle it."

Bella's brow furrowed in confusion. "For me? Why!" she shrieked.

Jasper's gaze dart out to scan the parking lot, and she bit her lip in chagrin. There were some people slamming car doors and laughingly stumbling up the steps of the building, but none close enough to hear them over the ambient noise.

His gaze again found hers. In the darkness hemmed by streetlights his eyes looked iridescent. "Hush now. Do you want to take this somewhere else?"

Bella shook her head. "I'm good," she mumbled.

Jasper nodded once. "I didn't know about any of this myself. You have my word on that, Bella. Otherwise I'd have tendered some kinda damage control before now," he frowned.

For some reason, she believed him. "But what do they want with _me_?"

Jasper grimaced. "Well the short of it is…they think _I_ was the one who tore Edward to shreds – and I gotta say it ain't a bad legacy to have," he added with conspiratorial raise to his brow.

Bella swallowed thickly.

"They think I killed him in a kinda lover's triangle," he continued. Jasper paused then, looking uncomfortable. "And they think you're my mate," he said quietly.

Bella's head jerked back, confused. "What about Alice!"

"Shh," he warned with another glance toward the building. "We parted ways some time ago," he murmured. "Anyway, there's consequences for human's knowing about us, you see. They found out about you, and now…" He licked his lips as his eyes bored into her intensely as if willing her to understand the gravity of his next words. "They decided they want you either dead… or Turned. And these particular gents tend to get what they want. Always."

Bella's gaze raked the ground as her mind frantically scrabbled to understand. "I- I don't-" she stammered, anxiety quickly bubbling up from under his spell.

"Look here," Jasper interrupted, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a touch-screen phone. "They came after me and I didn't have a clue what was goin' on either. But I did record a conversation with Alice. 'Think it explains just about everything I know."

His fingers tapped fluently over the screen while Bella frantically tried to hold on to her waning sanity.

"I digitally altered the vampire speak so y'could hear it," Jasper glanced up with a smug quirk to his lips as if he were pleased with himself.

Bella scowled.

With a chuckle – at her or himself, she wasn't sure – he hit the button and Alice's bright tinkling voice danced between them.

"_I know, they wouldn't let us contact you until Jane called. But I guess you survived…"_

For the next three minutes, Bella listened intently, each passing word adding another measure of lead to the sickening sinking ballast where her heart used to be. The Volturi seen that night Brazil through Carlisle's memories, but, like Alice, their powers couldn't see the wolves and they thought Jasper had killed Edward. But they knew about Charlie.

_They wanted her Turned._

_And if she didn't give them what they wanted, they'd come after her and her father._

_They would find out about her Pack._

_They would find out about Paul._

_They would find out about _Caleb_…_

Bella swallowed, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes. _This couldn't be happening._ Surely it was just some kind of dream - some kind of _nightmare_.

When the recorded conversation ended, he slipped the phone back in his pocket.

Bella wiped at the silent tears that tracked her cheeks with a shaking hand that came back smeared black with eyeliner. Her mind was racing a million miles a second.

Jasper sighed sympathetically and reached out with a comforting hand.

Bella flinched away. "Don't touch me," she ground out, suddenly stone cold sober.

Jasper nodded solemnly and folded his hands before him. His adam's apple bobbed as he cleared his throat. "So… I don't relish havin' my back up against this wall either, darlin'. But there simply ain't no help for it."

"Can't we run?" Bella's voice broke.

"If I had my druthers, I'ld go back there and tell'em to stick it where the sun don't shine while you did just that," Jasper gave her a cocky grin. "But Bella... they'll _find_ you. No matter how far or how fast you run. They aren't like the rest of our kind. They're dangerous."

Bella snorted sarcastically. "_Not_ like the rest of your kind?"

But Jasper was utterly serious. "You know there's precious little that makes me pause, darlin'…" He let the words die out on his tongue.

"And the Volturi do," Bella completed forlornly.

Jasper nodded with a grimace.

Bella turned and leaned back against the cool rusting metal of her truck and tipped her face to the moonlit sky framed by the black silhouette of the forest. She hit her head against the window in frustration. Once. Twice.

"So… the way I figure…"Jasper spoke right next to her ear and she picked her head up in surprise. He was standing inches away from her, his elbow leaned casually against the truck while he looked down at her. His eyes glittered as they washed lazily over her face.

Bella didn't move a muscle.

"The way I figure…" his voice softened into a croon. "You can either come with me and we can try to buy us some time. Maybe figure out if we can work out a little somethin' to our advantage…" He licked his lips as his hand brushed over her forehead to ghost down a strand of her hair to rest on her shoulder.

Bella shivered. Now that she recognized it, she realized even a vampire's most casual touch was intensely sensual – like they either wanted to jump you or eat you…or both. She supposed that was about right.

"Or…" she pressed as she sidled an inch away from him.

Jasper took the hint and let his hand drop to his side. "Or…" his voice dropped to a whisper. "You can go back and tell your Pack and risk it all."

Bella bit her lip as sobs rose thick and choking in her throat.

Jasper's eyes bored into hers. "Bella…as _good as Paul is_…" he paused for an entire breath in emphasis. "He _can't_ take 'em."

Bella closed her eyes as hot anguished tears burned her cheeks.

"And you know he's gonna try," he added in merely a breath.

Bella pressed her lips together to mute the hiccuping sob that finally escaped.

The shrill ring of her phone was like a knife in her chest.

Jasper knowingly met her gaze as he pushed off the truck. "I'll give you a little solitary to think on it, alright?" he drawled shoving his hands in his pockets as the phone continued to ring. "My car's parked down the road at the turnoff for town," he added.

Bella nodded, as her eyes fell to where she pulled her phone out of her pocket. When she looked back up again, Jasper was gone.

And Bella was alone.

With a frantically ringing phone in her fist and two unanswerable questions:

How in God's name could she even consider leaving (_abandoning_ - oh, she had no illusions about making it back alive) all that she loved so dearly: her father... her Pack … _her son… her mate_?

And perhaps worse yet, how could she _not_?

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	5. Little Hands

**Chapter 5 – Little Hands**

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><p>'<p>

_Drip_.

The faucet was leaking again with a forlorn plunk into the rice pot filled with water in the sink. It wasn't a fast leak, but it was consistent – every nine minutes to be exact.

Paul's hand shook as his pencil scratched against paper, patiently, lovingly revealing the willowy shape of Bella leaning in Caleb's door a mere hour ago. Anxiety suddenly surged through his veins like acid and his hand paused, his eyes snapping to skewer the cell phone sitting beside him on the couch.

The evening wind blew the branches against the east end of the house, with scrape over the whisper of the breeze and the tinkling wind chime on the porch.

Paul swallowed thickly.

She'd only been gone less than an hour and Paul felt like he was going to jump out of his skin.

_Something was wrong._

Even though his sheepishly frantic texts had been answered with her casual reassurance, he couldn't shake the feeling. She hadn't picked up the phone when he had finally swallowed his pride and called her, but she had followed his stuttered voice message with a _text_. It said that Jessica was being annoying and the bar was loud. But that she was okay.

It was _bullshit_.

With a growl of frustration Paul lunged to his feet, jettisoning the pencil across the room like a dart. It splintered with a crack against the far wall, the broken tip lodged in the drywall.

Paul stood still, glaring at it as he listened for Caleb. The child's slow even breathing continued unerringly.

_Drip_.

With a snarl of self-derision, he whipped around and snatched up the phone. With impatient fingers he tapped out the number – he'd never mastered the intricacies of this damn phone, and who needed a directory anyway when you had one omnipresent in your head. His photographic memory was good for fucking something.

_Ring,ring. Ring,ring._

"Fuckin' answer the phone Sam," Paul grumbled as he shoved his other hand through his hair and paced a few steps.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring._

_Beep_.

"_You got Sam Uley. Leave a message."_

"Fuck," Paul spat and flipped the phone closed. He was probably too goddamn busy fucking his wife to answer his phone. With a glower, he flipped the phone back open and tersely dialed the numbers again.

_Ring, ring._

Paul paced, struggling not to crush the phone in his grip against his ear.

_Ring, r-_

"Yeah," Sam's growl was low, dangerous… and breathless. Paul had been right. "What the fuck, Paul?"

Emily's quiet complaint about language skittered over his growl.

"You gotta come stay with Cay," Paul dove in with no preamble, agitation clipping his words.

"What!" It sounded like he pulled the phone back to look at the time. "Jesus Paul, she hasn't even been gone an hour!" Sam had easily made the leap. He probably thought Paul was simply being overprotective, or smothering, or lame… or all three.

Paul didn't care.

"Something's _wrong_, Sam," he pressed.

"Wait a sec," Sam groaned and it sounded like he covered the mouthpiece with his hand while he grumbled the story to Emily.

He came back on the phone. "Wait, Em's texting her."

Paul impatiently squeezed his eyes shut as he ground his teeth.

After 53 long seconds, there was a shuffling at the other end of the phone.

"Paul?" Emily's voice soothed on the phone. "Honey, she said she's fine. She said to tell you she was just frustrated with Jessica, but she's okay. She's leaving in a few minutes."

Paul didn't miss the patronizing velvet of her words. He probably did look like a total asshole right about now. With a capitulating sigh, his shoulders fell and he licked his lips. Could it simply be that – after today –this mandate to chase her down was merely a symptom of his own self-centered possessiveness?

That's what it was looking like.

_Oh, shit._ He had _told_ her he wanted her to go out with the girls for a night – _one fucking night!_ – and that he didn't need babysitting like some weak-assed pussy who couldn't handle his shit. And now, when she had done just that, he was falling apart? What a total loser.

At the silence that stretched over his tumbling thoughts, Emily continued. "Honey, let's give her a little more time, okay?" she murmured in that voice he recognized so well. Bella used it on him all the time when the wolf was close losing it. "Another half hour?"

This time, that voice didn't work.

With supreme effort at any modicum of social protocol, Paul grunted an assent and snapped the phone closed as a vicious snarl grated his chest. He stared at the little device in his palm and squeezed it testingly with bared teeth. The little pop from somewhere in the rugged seams made him freeze, dancing on the edges of pulverizing the thing.

Turning, he savagely he threw it to the couch. It bounced several times before plunking on the floor.

Paul fisted his hands on either side of his head as he paced across the living room and then back again.

_Drip_.

Paul spun around on the unsuspecting kitchen with a growl. His body was shaking with tremors as he stalked the innocent leak. A haze of rage colored the moonlight spilling through the window as Paul reached out and easily crushed the offending faucet in his fist.

The groan of the twisting metal echoed through the pipes - and therefore the entire house - making Paul freeze.

_Caleb_.

His son was sleeping in next room (or trying to) and Paul's control hung so weakly in balance that he was mangling the plumbing?

Breathing harshly through his nose he scowled at his shameful handiwork.

The buzz of his cell phone against the floor made Paul whip around, faster than the sound could fully reach his brain. He dove across the room and flipped open the phone as he slid on his stomach.

"Yeah?" he choked, not even bothering to look at the ID.

"Hey, we're on our way," Emily's murmured.

Paul blinked in confusion. Had they come to Paul's same disgraceful conclusion that it wasn't safe for his own _son_ to be left alone with him like this?

"Wh-what?" Paul stammered.

He could hear the hesitation in this friend's voice even as she was rushing down the steps.

"What, Em!" Paul ground out as he sat up at full attention.

"Sam'll be there in two minutes," she soothed. But Paul heard it in her voice: the omission as loud as if she'd yelled it.

"Tell me!" He hissed, stumbling to his feet.

He heard her soft smacking kiss on Sam's lips and their truck's engine roaring to life under a heavy foot.

"Shh, stay calm," she pressed hypnotically in a monotone. "I just got a text from Angela asking if Bella's coming tonight."

"Wha-…" Paul's brows knit together as he struggled to understand with his fevered brain.

"Paul, she said Jessica and the others are there, but Bella never made it to the bar…" Emily reiterated tensely.

At those simple words, something deep within Paul snapped. He could viscerally feel the pop and fluttering pieces.

"Oh, okay," Paul whispered, a frightfully hollow sound even to his own ears. Without another word he flipped the phone closed. His mind was careening at a breakneck speed, but Paul felt eerily calm as he crossed to their bedroom. He stripped his pants off and opened back up the phone, dialing one-handed.

_Ring, ring._

Opening the second drawer of his chest, he snatched out a pair of shorts.

_Ring, ring._

He pulled out one of the rag ties he kept curled in the little dish on his dresser.

_Ring, ring._

He stooped down and resituated the phone against his shoulder.

_Ring_- "Hey, this is Bella. Leave a message and I'll get back to you soon," his mates soothing voice poured along over the hammer of his heart.

_Beep_.

"I'm coming, babe," Paul murmured.

Snapping it closed he stuffed the phone in the pocket of the elastic shorts and then briskly rolled it up. With deft, familiar movements he had the shorts tied securely to his ankle as the sound of Sam's truck roared in the distance.

Sam was stepping down from the cab when Paul ripped open the door and was down the stairs in one leap.

"Stay with Cay," Paul bit out as he sprinted past him.

"Paul, wait-" Sam began. Paul could see his concerned expression in his periphery.

"I've waited too long alre –" Paul's hiss was completed by a lupine growl as he dove smoothly into a phase.

'

'

Paul raced through the woods. Twigs and branches snagged at his pelt in his myopic haste.

He had been right. Something _was_ wrong. His human mind desperately searched for any number of reasonable explanations, but none could explain the one simple fact: Bella had lied to him.

She _hadn't_ been with Jessica. She also _hadn't_ refused to take his call because of a noisy bar. Because she _wouldn't_ lie to him… she _couldn't_. Not to his face.

Another man might worry of infidelity or something sneaky, but not Paul. He knew his mate better than he knew himself and there was only _one_ reason on God's green earth why she would _ever_ lie to him.

She was in danger.

With an affirming lupine whine, his wolf's paws beat the ground at an increasingly frenetic pace.

He needed to stay human tonight, as much as he could, because he was feeling his already shaky hold on his humanity slipping. And he could _feel_ that this situation would demand an acumen that his wolf could never manage.

_Paul_, Jacob's voice popped into his head.

The wolf growled low and vicious in warning.

Jacob ignored the transgression. _Sam called and–_

_Don't get in my way_, Paul snarled. _It's your only fucking warning._

The neon lights of the bar flickered through the heavy underbrush as the wolf came to an abrupt halt. Its breath came in harsh pants as it surveyed the eerily commonplace Friday scene. Truth be known, Paul had spent many a weekend at this dive looking for an unmemorable fuck in the back of any girl's car who'd take him.

And as far as he could see, nothing had changed. A couple necked heavily against a car right in front of him, music bunched up the night with a heavy-handed beat and drunken laughter was lifted on the breeze along with stale alcohol, greasy food, piss and…

The wolf threw its head back the sky and loosed a deafening howl.

_Leech_, the word burned through his brain like acid, before he viciously forced the beast down and snapped into his human form. In one lithe movement he was pulling up his shorts and jogging out under the lights of the parking lot. He ignored the shocked couple, the girl quickly pulling her shirt down over bared breasts as he pushed roughly past them. He wove between the cars, following the filaments of that repulsively sweet rot that lingered on the breeze.

Ahh, he recognized that scent. How could he forget? _Jasper_.

A growl boiled in his gut as he tried to still his tremors. After the stress and violence of the day it was a monumental task to maintain his human form anyway – but leech rot just made it worse. They had caught a few of the creatures that were unlucky enough to wander within a hundred miles, but make no mistake, the last few years of had seen the Pack grow both lazy and restless from the lulling peace.

The scent was strongest at the far end of the packed parking lot. As he jogged closer, Paul's gaze snapped to the small gift bag that lay dirty and tattered on the ground. He stooped and brought it absently to his nose as his sharp eyes scanned the ground.

Bella's scent was still on the bag and it relaxed him enough to force his heart back down his throat and realize just how close to hyperventilating he actually was. There was a small telltale oil spot on the ground from their piece of shit truck. She had been here… the truck had been parked maybe ten minutes based on the volume? Straightening, Paul threw the gift to the ground and stamped on the insolent butterfly on the front, grinding it into the gravel.

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and paced over to the woods. The leech had waited for her here. His eyes darted back to where the truck had been parked, his mind racing over the details of the scene. The leech must have parked somewhere else and come to wait for her– its scent clearly led off into the darkness.

Gulping against the violent tremors rolling through his body, he sprinted, following the scent. In the distance the long lamenting whine of lupine howls threaded the night as he ran through the forest. The moon flickered, yellow and portentous, through the branches, dappling the ground with piss light. Just a little over half a mile through the forest, the trail ended at a dirt pull-off by the side of the road leading to Forks.

And there sat Bella's truck, silent and empty.

Paul froze, the heavy clouds swallowing the moon and throwing the scene ominously into shadow. In a shaking slink, he moved forward as he desperately tried to tame his flailing heartbeat. Squeezing his eyes shut balefully against the urge to phase, as he drew in a deep breath. The stench of leech was strong, but there was no scent of struggle.

Reassuring… but odd.

Without really knowing why he did it, Paul shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell as he slowly circled the small clearing. He dialed the phone without looking and brought up absently to his ear.

_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

Paul looked up sharply. With a second's delay the answering ring was warbling from inside the truck. Tossing the cell to the ground, he leaped to the door. Bella's phone lay on the seat, the lights blinking as a backdrop to the words "PAUL" and a little heart icon punctuating the caller id.

With no thought, Paul's fist shot through the window, shattering it, as he grabbed for the device. It buzzed merrily in his hand for several rounds while Paul's breath rasped through his nose. It silenced poignantly as his call went to voice mail and Paul tried to swallow the rising bile in his throat.

With a roar he chucked the phone, shattering the windshield in the process, and then tore the door off the truck. Throwing it thoughtlessly to the side, Paul frantically searched the cab. It smelled like Bella – all wildflower honey and strawberry shampoo – and caustic unbridled terror.

Savage snarls tearing through him enough to start a nosebleed, he scrabbled past the baby seat, crushing it incidentally in his struggle to get to the glove compartment. Ripping it open he found Bella's key ….and a neatly folded piece of paper.

Choking on the blood dripping down his throat, he carefully unfolded it as he climbed into the driver's seat.

An undeniably shaking hand made Bella's usually messy hand writing nearly illegible.

"_Paul,_

_I love you. More than you'll ever know. _

_But I have to leave. I know I'm asking too much, but please don't look for me. Just keep Caleb safe. Jasper came to get me and said that there are others who are coming after me if I don't go to them first. They're old friends of Edward's…" _

Paul snarled gutturally as he read the name. It suddenly dawned on him that she was trying to write cryptically in case someone else found the note.

_"You said there were things we had to fix by ourselves and this is one of them._ _ They're too strong for you honey and I couldn't keep living if my stupid mistakes hurt you or Caleb…"_ She crossed something out in a burst of scribbles and seemed to hastily start the final paragraph.

"_I __have__ to do this even though I know you'll hate me for it. I hope you can forgive me some day. __Take care of our beautiful boy and tell him I love him every day._

_I'll always love you more than life itself._

_Bella."_

Paul stared blankly at the sheet of paper that would be preserved in his cursed memory for the rest of his life. He drew in a long burning breath in and released it as the note fluttered to the ground from numb fingers.

"FUCK!" he exploded as he threw a fist into the dashboard. "FUCKING SHIT!" he pummeled anything he could reach in a blur of breaking glass, shattered plastic and violence. Leaping from the truck he slammed blow after blow into groaning metal. Squatting he gritted his teeth and threw the truck several feet over and onto its side and pounced with wild fists, kicking feet, using any part of his body he could to pulverize the vehicle. All in a desperate attempt to beat back the empty hopelessness that threatened to swallowed him whole.

**"Paul, stop,"** a resonant bass froze him like he'd just grounded a lightning strike.

Clenching his hands into fists, Paul quivered under the weight of those words, while blood dripped down his forearms, splashing softly on the soil at his feet.

"_Jacob_," Paul hashed the barely human utterance through the foam on his lips as he turned around slowly under his Alpha's impotent order.

Jacob blanched under Paul's murderous stare but squared his shoulders. "What happened?" his voice slipped down to that velvet croon bent on soothing his enraged wolf.

_What a fucking idiot_.

Jacob was way out of his league. It was merely the fact that if he lost himself to the animal right now, he'd never find his way back that kept the wolf in check. Blue-blooded Alpha talk wasn't gonna do shit.

"What happened?" Paul sneered, his lip lifting to bare canines viciously. _"What happened?"_ He chuckled darkly with a feral tilt to his head.

"She _left_, Jake." Paul took a trembling step forward. "She FUCKING LEFT! _With a motherfucking bloodsucker!_"

Paul jerkily stalked the fifty feet toward his Alpha who suddenly seemed to realize just how much deep shit he was in.

"Brady, Jared… Leave!" he hissed tersely, even while he went into a defensive crouch. And it was only then that Paul noticed his other two pack mates flanking him.

With a bellow of fury, Paul threw himself at his Alpha. Jacob eluded the first two strikes but the wicked punch that followed snapped his face back with the sickening crunch of bone. He staggered with an incensed snarl and then lunged after Paul.

But Paul's every synapse was firing so fast it was like the man moved in slow motion. Jacob's lightning blows caught nothing but air, pulling him off his balance in surprise. Paul brought his punishing fists down on the back of Jacob's head and finished it off with a scissor kick that threw his Alpha across the clearing.

With a pained cough Jacob lurched to hands and knees, blood dripping to the ground as his gaze snapped to the ruthless predator stalking him.

"She fucking _left_…she _left_…" Paul hissed senselessly as he took several dangerous steps toward him. "She- .. She… His hands clenched in fists as he hardened his jaw, his feral gaze boring into his Pack mate.

Paul's attention was so focused he didn't even hear the other wolf approach. It leaped between the two opponents, but its posture was submissive. Tail tucked, ears flattened and head lowered, Brady whined and bumped his head against his Alpha.

"Brady," Jacob hissed. "Lea-"

The wolf suddenly barked - a surprisingly loud sound that made both men start. And also effectively curtailed Jacob's impending Alpha order.

Jacob's gaze snapped in surprise to the Pack's only submissive wolf. The wolf's tail curled tighter between its legs as it hunched lower to the ground in a paragon of passive aggression.

Then Jacob did something that only _he_ would do in such a situation… he _laughed_. A boisterous, hearty laugh that made him clap his hand reflexively to what were surely shattered ribs.

Paul's lip lifted in growl of annoyance, but the Pack's omega had effectively neutralized the clash of dominants. Paul found that he simply couldn't maintain aggression toward Brady's gentle nature and even if Paul wanted to thrash Jacob a little more. Brady had made it clear he'd have to go through him to do it.

"Shit, Paul…" Jacob must have seen all that pass through Paul's heated yellow gaze.

Paul looked up sharply, but Jacob wisely lowered his gaze under the pretense of looking at the wolf on its haunches before him. "What the hell happened?" he murmured quietly as he ruffled Brady's coat with absent affection.

Paul took a step back as his gaze searched the cloudy sky overhead for answers. "There's a note… I dunno," he whispered hoarsely.

Jacob pushed off the ground, ignoring Brady's worried whimper.

Paul briskly shook the blood off his hands and rolled his shoulders while Jacob leaped up on the ruined truck and looked inside the cab for the piece of paper.

"Wow, you really fucked this thing up," Jacob muttered quietly to himself.

"There's no way that we can track her with Jasper," Paul slammed his ruined fist into his palm.

The phone ringing from the leaves made all wolves in both human and animal form snap to attention. Paul nearly pounced on the thing in his haste to answer it.

"Yeah?" He gasped.

"You find her?" Sam asked, tension pulling his voice thin. Caleb's wails were heard in the background along with Leah's frantic soothing monologue.

The boy rarely cried.

Paul's shoulders fell in abject despair. _What was he going to tell Caleb?_

"She left, Sam," Paul rasped.

"What?" he gasped.

With no further word, Paul blindly held out the phone. Jacob was at his side snapping it from his grasp in a heartbeat.

"Hey Sam," he murmured into the phone as his eyes scanned the note in his hand. "It's some bloodsuckers from before coming after her. She says we can't take 'em and 'looks like she's worried about them finding out about us and Caleb so she's trying to take care of it."

"Shit," Sam spat on the other end. He paused for several moments while Paul squinted against the sobs of his child through the tinny speaker. "How's Paul?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Paul turned and met Jacob's disgustingly worried gaze.

"I'm on my way," Paul whispered and darted off into the night.

'

'

As a man – even a preternatural one - the trip back to the Rez took probably twice as long. But Paul didn't trust the wolf enough to Phase. Truthfully he didn't know if he would ever be able to reemerge from an instinct that would relentlessly search for something that was lost to him now.

No, he needed to stay human. For their son if not for his own sanity.

His bare feet hit the rough terrain in his tireless sprinting gait. His Pack mates ran in wolf form at his side as silent shadows in the night, instinctively staying out of his line of vision, lest they inadvertently incite any challenge.

But he knew they were there.

The small cottage was brightly lit in a parody of serenity in this corner of the black, black wood. Paul slowed his gait and collapsed forward, catching his hands on thighs as his breath sprinted on ahead.

Jacob's human voice slithered out from the shadows beside him. "There's no trail," he announced quietly – more in a testament that they had at least tried.

"I know," Paul whispered and pressed his lips together. This was all so fucking déjà vu. It threw him back five years ago to when Bella had first been taken from him. Except this time, she hadn't been taken.

_She had left._

Swallowing thickly, Paul straightened and trained his gaze on the house before him. Caleb's heartrending cries had dwindled to hiccupping whimpers over the 15 minutes it had taken for Paul to get there. Squaring his shoulders, Paul strode purposefully toward the cottage.

Sam met him on the porch with chafing concern that made Paul want to beat his ass to a pulp.

"Don't fucking look at me like that," Paul growled low.

Sam valiantly tried to rearrange his face – without success – but didn't back down from his blockade. "You okay? He's pretty upset," Sam murmured, glancing behind him at the renewal of wails.

"He's my fucking son," Paul ground out taking the porch steps in one stride and standing chest to chest with his friend.

"I know, but –" Sam made the mistake of reaching out to place a placating hand on Paul's heaving chest.

Paul snatched his wrist up in a lightning fist. "But?" Paul raised a challenging brow.

Sam's gaze dipped blandly to Paul's crushing grip, making the bones pop and crackle in his arm.

"He's my _fucking son_," he seethed.

He felt Jacob take a warning step behind him, making his hackles raise.

Sam glanced past him and shook his head imperceptibly. His gaze again found Paul's. "I know," he whispered. "And that's why I _know_ you don't want him to see you like this."

Paul's eyes darted between Sam's fearlessly open gaze. Sam and Paul had talked about the challenges of fatherhood on only a handful of occasions that their machismo would allow it, but each and every one of those discussions had ended up at the same point: neither of them wanted to be anything like their own absent and abusive fathers.

Paul released Sam abruptly and took a step back with a curt nod. As if all the wind had suddenly been sucked out of him, Paul collapsed on the steps of the porch while Sam sat beside him – several feet away - absently rubbing his wrist.

Paul fisted his hands at his temples and hung his head. "I-… I just d-don't know wh-" he choked on his words as the tidal wrath receded from bleak desolation.

"We'll figure it out, Paul. Jake read me her note and as far as I can tell… she left for _you_," Sam murmured.

"What!" Paul cackled maniacally as his disbelieving gaze found his friend. "Bella's gonna get killed – or _worse_ – for _nothing_!"

"Her child, her mate… her Pack. We're not _nothing_ to Bella," Sam said quietly, measuring his words hesitantly against Paul's expression. "She did what she thought was right… because she _loves_ you."

"What the fuck, Sam!" Paul shook his head as if to clear it. "I could _protect_ her!"

Sam nodded somberly. "Let me ask you something: if the tables were turned..."

"But- b-but I'm –"

"Do you trust her?" Sam interrupted.

Paul's mouth popped open soundlessly as his mind churned.

"Mommy! M-mommy!" Caleb sobbed frantically - it sounded like he had thrown himself into the door, beating his little fists against it.

Paul glanced back at the house and his shoulders slumped.

"You're gonna have to," Sam continued, pulling his legs back on the porch and standing. "Because your son _needs_ you."

Paul met his Sam's intense gaze and took a deep steeling breath as the child's plaintive cries ripped Paul's guts to pieces.

His friend dusted off his hands and took the few steps to the door. "You ready?" he asked quietly.

Paul swallowed and nodded as he tried to push all the soul-rending turmoil beneath the mantle of fatherhood and duty.

With that Sam opened the door. The boy nearly fell out onto the porch in surprise. His son's gaze immediately locked on to his father and for several silent seconds they just stared at each other as the crickets hemmed the night.

"What's all these shenanigans, little boy?" Paul finally asked with mock sternness, even as he held out his arms invitingly.

"Papa!" the boy squealed.

Paul caught the child as he stumbled forward. "Shh," he crooned as he drew the toddler's tiny body to his chest.

Little hands wrapped fiercely around Paul's neck as the child immediately quieted with a shaky sigh of relief.

Paul's heart stuttered.

"Hey, heeyyyy, little boy," Paul tipped the boys chin up and gazed with concern into those huge brown eyes – Bella's eyes – that were watery and red with worry – Paul's worry. "Everything's gonna be okay."

The child bit his lip and sniffled forlornly with a brave and somber nod.

Paul pulled the child's head back to his shoulder and rocked him soothingly. He never lied to his son but that night he did.

Nothing was ever going to be okay again.

'

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_Review if you like._


	6. Touches

Thanks for the reviews. I appreciate it immensely. Just a note that all these characters are complex (in my mind - as we all are). And as I've said, this story at it's core is a study in transformation.

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_Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 – Touches<strong>

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_Anticipation. _In a mere day, a lifetime of it had metastasized into white-hot _demand_.

And Jasper's hands were quivering like a hummingbird's wings against his laptop like some hopeless junkie.

His entire life – and after – had been nothing but one painful lesson in endurance after another: from the self-possession it took to walk as a man among beautiful women, to the discipline necessary for a Major to lead weak men, to their deaths, to the restraint it took to walk now as monster among both.

But there had been nothing in this long, punishing legacy that could compare to this: Bella trumped it all.

As she had for the entire trip so far, she sat sideways in the easy chair as far away as she could from him in the luxurious cabin of the private jet. Her back was to him - her knees drawn up to her chin - as she stared listlessly out the window.

But even over the roar of engines - as if she sat in his lap - each moist thud of her heartbeat, each shaky sweet breath, each soft erratic swallow, bludgeoned him over the head like a sledgehammer.

And hit the nails in his coffin –and hers - ever deeper.

"You can stop now," Bella's voice shuffled through the cabin like cashmere comfort. Or a siren's call.

Or, worse… both, at the same time.

Jasper bit his lip, his fingers stilling against the keyboard where he'd been frenetically fishing for _some_ sort of strategy for this blind game of chess before him.

His voice sounded nothing at all like his twisted innards, it was smooth and easy like silk. "Pardon me, darlin'?"

She released a long slow breath that raised the hairs on Jasper's neck as she slowly uncurled herself from the seat and turned. "You can stop _that_ _thing_," she repeated, with a glimmer of irritation that made him smile. "I can't feel him anymore."

But as that beautiful face turned to him, Jasper's breath caught in his throat. The hopelessness in those dark eyes felt like a knife slipped between his ribs. Or a fledgling heartbeat.

Or worse…both, at the same time.

Jasper nodded and pulled back the artificial tranquility he'd cultivated for her since their departure from Forks yesterday evening.

And – like those Chinese tea flowers that bloom in a clear teapot of which he was so fond– Bella's emotions blossomed, vibrant, complex… authentic. They softened and stretched forth, steeping the recycled air on the plane in richness.

The indigo hue of despair did nothing to diminish their beauty; Bella's emotions unfurled with the exquisiteness of a fiddlehead fern from the hard lump of sorrow. With the deep bruising of a sunset, the vividness of her heartache swirled with the orange of primal shock and desperation.

"Thank you, Jasper," Bella murmured, pulling a shoulder to her ear even as tears welled up to tremble on long curling lashes. Though how Bella could thank him for returning her to such anguish was beyond him.

Jasper fought the urge to wipe the diamond drops away as he forced the knot of venom painfully down his throat.

Instead, he smiled. "Well you're most welcome, little lady," but his cockiness snagged hoarsely in his throat.

If she noticed, Bella said nothing. Her gaze fell to her lap where her fingers were nervously twisting one of the curling locks of her hair, around and around her finger.

With an odd feeling of desperation, Jasper tried to reel those eyes back in. "So d'you think it's the distance-…?" he let the simpleton's attempt at conversation die on his lips. The last thing he wanted to do was remind her about a man she'd never see again. Was it out of compassion or selfishness?

Maybe both, at the same time.

Even so, he was rewarded; she looked up and nodded as if comforted by his concern and he felt like a monster.

Sniffling pitifully, she explained, "ever since we refueled in New York… I c-can't-…" Her voice was quashed by sorrow as tears sprinted from both eyes like runners from the block.

Those shimmering droplets had only just crested her cheekbones when Jasper was kneeling at her feet. Reeling from the emotional whiplash, he reached out to her with both hands and influence.

"Hush, now," he crooned.

"Don't," she choked, squeezing her eyes shut and sending forth another surge of sorrow.

Jasper frowned, bewildered.

"P-Please… _don't_," she gasped more strenuously this time, her face furrowed with concentration. He could feel her resist his gifts: a flat hard push against his heart.

Finally understanding, Jasper snatched back his emotional sway, but left his hands resting on those bare, petal-soft forearms. He couldn't resist.

But Bella licked her lips and deliberately pulled them out from under his palms and wrapped them around her middle.

Jasper sat back on the floor. Cocking his head, he drew his knees up, clasping hands that tingled from her touch loosely around them. For several minutes he shamelessly watched her scrabble and scrape together every last scrap of composure through hiccupping sobs.

She was fascinating: so raw. So real.

Finally those long lashes fluttered and she opened eyes that swam with pain… and skewered him down to his very soul. Or where his soul used to be.

Bella audibly swallowed. "Is there any hope, Jasper?"

He wanted to say yes, but he knew better. No matter what angle he took, how many plans he laid, how many strategies he wove, they never led to anything even approaching what _Bella_ would call hope.

But oddly they all led to places Jasper had only ever dreamed of.

That the Fates would conspire to bring her – Bella, the precipitator of all that had unfolded in both his heart and life over the last years –to him in a way he might never have to lose her restored something Jasper had renounced long ago. And that was, indeed… _hope_.

So he answered her. For her sake as well as his.

"Of course there is, darlin'. I figure first we just gotta buy us a little time," he gave her a casual smile. "And of course, I got me a plan cookin' bout that part."

Bella pulled her quivering lip into the side of her mouth in that habitual way of hers he found so entrancing and she nodded bravely. Those sensitive brown eyes of hers washed thoughtfully over him.

Jasper let her do so without comment. Truth be known he reveled in it. When had he ever felt so acknowledged… so _seen_… as he did around Bella?

But her next words surprised him.

"So you're not a vegetarian anymore." The quiet statement carried not a shred of condemnation hanging on for the ride.

Jasper released his knees and leaned back on his palms, stretching out his legs before him as he regarded her with a tilt to his head.

"I partake," he said carefully, watching her reaction.

Bella pulled her lip further into her mouth and her eyes fell to the slow, methodical twisting of her hand in her hair.

Jasper sat up a bit more, unsettled; he had expected questions. When they didn't come, he found himself frantic to answer them anyway: he wanted her to _understand_.

"I'm guessin' I'm what you call an _omnivore_, darlin'," his nonchalance sounded forced even to him. "I indulge the diet with a little dessert now and again."

Bella said nothing, but just twisted her hair a little tighter around her finger.

"And I don't kill 'em," Jasper added softly, pushing a disconcerted hand through his hair before leaning back again.

Bella looked up then and Jasper forced his lips into an intrepid grin.

"I understand," she said simply.

Jasper's cheeky smile died on his lips.

And there it was in those caring eyes: the limitless, absolving acceptance that was her hallmark and the root of her allure.

Bella rearranged herself on the chair and leaned her head back, effectively indicating the end of that subject. "So what's the plan?"

Jasper cleared his throat and as he struggled to switch tracks. "Well, the moment we land, we meet with 'em. It'll be three days on the nose," he cockily raised his brows. "How's your acting, little darlin'?"

Bella blinked and then gave him a sarcastic smirk. "Well, I played an awesome cow in the second grade Christmas play."

Jasper laughed out loud and the surprise humor.

Bella smiled in spite of herself. It was a lovely thing indeed.

"Well good. Because we gotta play this thing _real_. No bovine performance required," he chuckled. "The best thing to do when you're lyin', is tell the truth as much as you can. So that's what we're gonna do," he paused with a quirk to his lips. "With a little twist that is."

Bella sighed in irritation. "C'mon… just-.. just _tell_ me."

Jasper smiled and stood crossing to his computer.

"Aro wants you Turned," he began practically as he veered with relief into less dangerous territory: strategy.

"He wants both of us to join him, and Alice said he's desperate," Jasper turned and met her gaze. "And that's _just_ where we want him to be. Though funny thing is...Aro's not the desperate type. So what I'm thinkin' - hopefully Carlisle knows more - is he's caught wind of some kind of shake-down that's comin' his way," Jasper pushed his lower lip through his teeth. "He thinks he _needs_ us, so all we have to do is convince him that _we_ need a little more time.."

"_How_," Bella pressed impatiently.

"I'm getting there, darlin'."

Bella snorted. "Yeah… at a freaking snail's pace." she muttered under her breath.

Jasper's smile morphed into a lopsided grin and he tapped his chest grandly. "Immortal," he gave her a flourishing bow. "Nothing but time."

Bella rolled her eyes.

Jasper chuckled at his own joke since - she wasn't - as he returned to his seat. "So _as I was saying_…Aro himself will interview us, I expect. And very few get a tete-a-tete with our fearless leader. He's neurotic," he snorted and crossed his ankles before him in pert punctuation. "He reads minds – like Eddie – but by touch," he a paused for a moment as he pursed his lips. "So the idea is: he'll try to read you, and'll come up empty and get all excited…"

"Why?" She interrupted. "What kind of _'super power'_ do they think I have?" she twisted the words disparagingly.

"A thick head, little lady," he gave her a saccharine smile. "And I'm inclined to agree."

Bella's nostrils flared in annoyance and she pushed off the chair, throwing her hair over her shoulders impatiently.

And Jasper was momentarily struck dumb by the way the shimmering waves danced heavily down her back. He only deteriorated from there: his gaze was sucked helplessly into the gravity of those pert swells hugged by the little tank top she wore and the loose jeans that hung low on feminine hips. She was a beautiful woman. Jasper had always had a weakness for beauty.

Blissfully oblivious to his oggling, Bella wrung her hands before her and paced several steps in her own agitated world. "So you mean the way E-Edward couldn't read me… Aro can't either?"

She looked up at him with a little worried crease between her brows, and Jasper snapped his head back in the game. "That's what I reckon," he nodded once, as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably to better mask the evidence.

"So what's so special about _that_?" Bella continued pacing, her gaze raking over the rich patterned carpet of the plane.

Jasper propped his elbows on the armrests and tented his fingers before him. "Mind readin' seems to be the most _effectual_ of our kind's gifts - it always works. It _even_ works on your pack o' puppies."

Bella whipped around with a frown and Jasper gave her a knowing smirk before continuing. "...while other abilities seem to wax and wane dependin' on the season and target."

He tilted his head as he grew thoughtful - he hadn't really put all of these pieces together yet, he'd been too busy trying to figure out who had it in for Aro and just how he could join.

"There was one such as you centuries ago - before my time granted – who had the same shielding. No other special gifts worked on him either. Morgath he was called – and he was the brass ring. Protected his coven like a fortress," Jasper regarded her with a mercenary purse to his lips. "Now that's a weapon **I'd** be dyin' to have in my arsenal right now if I was him with a storm brewing."

Bella's brow knit, "what about _Alice_?"

The question made him pause. For many reasons.

Bella clarified. "_Alice_ can see me… see my future… all that stuff…" she challenged with a flick of her wrist; a snide dismissal that Jasper appreciated.

"Not bad…" he pressed his lips together as he regarded her with appreciation. "I hadn't thought about that. But come to think on it…" His hands came down to rest on the armrests as he rearranged himself. "I'll bet we haven't been understandin' her gifts just right. They could work on _you_ more like the locator on that cellphone o' yours…"

Bella scrunched up her nose in confusion as her hand came absently to pat her pocket. Her shoulders fell as she remembered it was empty. Jasper had asked her to leave it so she couldn't be traced.

He leaned forward over his thighs and cleared his throat, effectively distracting her. "Those phones work by triangulation, darlin'. They figure where you are based on the ping of several towers… that's why she can't '_see'_ you when you're with the wolves! I never understood why that was…" Jasper stood as the certainty of it washed over him. "She can read _other folks_ around you to – in effect -see where you're goin'… but it don't work on the _wolves_, so when you're with _them_…"

Bella backed up correspondingly from Jasper's excited steps and he stopped short, holding up placating hands.

His mind was still reeling from all the implications. "And _that's_ why she got it so wrong that night-…"

He stopped himself. _Damn_.

Bella sucked in a sharp breath as she took another step back and placed a steadying hand on the chair behind her. He could see it in her eyes… she knew exactly what he was talking about: the night Edward almost devoured her … in every way.

Because he'd started it, he finished. "She told me you would _ask_ to be turned…" Jasper's mouth grew dry as he remembered the way she had looked that night: starved, broken, abused… drained. He'd sucked out Edward's venom to save her life... and been obsessed by her addictive essence ever since.

"She could only see it from _his_ perspective –since he was the only one there," he finished quietly.

Bella brought an uncomfortable shoulder up to her ear under the intensity of his gaze. "Then we have to make sure he doesn't touch _you_," she whispered meekly.

Jasper shook his head to clear it. "What's that?"

"He can read your mind, right? He'll find out the plan...?" Bella continued hesitantly. "All of it…us talking about Paul... C-_Caleb_… everything…?"

Jasper blinked and took a step back. "That's right," he breathed. That girl's mind wasn't half bad – he hadn't been thinking about _that_. She threw him off something powerful, that much was for certain.

His agreement seemed to bolster her courage and she lifted her chin in a show of determination. "So what do I do?"

Jasper's attention snapped back to the task at hand and he took another step back and gracefully folded back into his chair. "That's easy, darlin'," he let a slow sly smile stretch his lips. "Just be yourself."

Bella swallowed and sat on the armrest of the large chair behind her. "_Myself_… " she mused quietly to the floor. "Myself pretending to be your…m-mate…" .

"Well, I'm gonna help you just a little bit with that part," he murmured.

Bella looked up sharply.

"You just keep thinking of that wolf o' yours, and I'll bend those feelin's back around toward me. Marcus'll never know the difference." Jasper smiled disarmingly.

"Huh?" Bella's brow quirked with endearing earnestness.

"See, the only one of 'em I think we have to worry ourselves about is Marcus-" Jasper was entranced by the easy way she swung her long hair around, pulling it over her shoulder and twisting it again with anxious fingers.

Bella cleared her throat pointedly, even as her hand stilled.

Jasper's gaze snapped back to her eyes. "Marcus' gift is he senses - not emotions, really - but _relationships_. And _especially_ with what we've been chewin' on just now, his gift is the only one of 'em who might use one of those outside connections we were talking about to get around your blind spot," he grinned toothily. "So he might be able to figure that you and me aren't exactly what you'd call a packaged deal."

Bella nodded absently as her gaze drifted and her hand returned to her hair's torment, coaxing the thick curling lock into a perfect ringlet.

"What about you, Jasper?" she whispered. There was a testing edge to the question.

Jasper covered his discomfort with a slather of bravado. "Me?" he clicked his tongue. "Don't you go worryin' about me. I won't be havin' me any kind of troubles fakin' it." Wasn't that the truth. His obsession would be obvious to any one of his kind, gifts or not.

Her hand stilled as she looked up and considered him in that unhurried way that was so uniquely Bella.

Jasper fought the urge to squirm with a saucy smirk.

"Not that..." She seemed to fold away some conclusion discreetly behind those dark eyes. "What I _meant_ was... what about your ...your _thing_? Why does _it_ work on me?"

Jasper rolled his eyes at himself. "Ahh..." he paused. The only answer he had for that one was relegated to the deepest recess of an awakening heart. "Maybe it's because you an' me share a little somethin' special...?" he leered with a humorous eyebrow wiggle.

Bella snorted melodramatically, effectively fooled by his playful facade. He hoped.

"Naw... I don't know except maybe it's on account of those powerful fierce emotions of yours. Who knows?" he shrugged good-naturedly. Frankly it was kind of nice to have his abilities be exceptional in any way. Jasper had always been ambivalent about them at best... of all the supernatural traits a warrior could be gifted with, hyper-empathy certainly wasn't at the top of the list. It did come in handy though when he wanted a little nip of toddy so to speak. He hated the taste of fear.

"But what if you're just _wrong_?" Bella asked after a minute, returning to a brooding seriousness he could taste.

"I'm _never _wrong," he gasped in shock, trying for light.

Bella didn't even smile. "I mean, what if I don't have any kind of _anything _special," she challenged, looking him dead in the eye.

He swallowed and, with the mercurial abruptness of his kind, returned to the reality of the situation. Beyond his infatuation, beyond the novel distraction, beyond his innate confidence… lurked a grave game indeed.

"Then, Bella… you're right. It's hopeless," he whispered somberly - she deserved the truth as much as he could tell her. "And you have a difficult choice to make if... if they give you one at all."

Bella stared at him blankly for a moment… then her shoulders fell with despair and the first muted sobs. Without another word, she pulled her hair up and wept miserably into it like a blanket, while her shoulders jerked with wracking sobs.

_It was unbearable. _

And without disrespecting her request with his abilities or thrall, he felt totally at a loss as to what to do. When he could resist the urge to comfort no longer, he crossed slowly … indecisively ...toward her. He kept his gifts to himself, but simply could not thwart his arms reckless reach.

Surprisingly, she didn't resist him this time but allowed herself to be pulled up off the chair and into his arms.

Her hands fisted in his shirt as she wept uncontrollably into his shoulder and Jasper couldn't suppress his gasp.

_That touch._

It was... it was indescribable. Even in abject despair, the way she clung to him - _knowing _it was _him_, under no thrall or charm - was simply sublime. In utter awe, Jasper's hands hugged her delicate body more firmly to him as with one hand he rubbed over her back with slow strokes, gently smoothing over her hair.

Shockingly, without him using even a shred of emotional influence, she quieted under his touch. Slowly the full-body spasms smoothed out to sniffling sobs.

"Shh... everything'll be alright, darlin'," he murmured as he leaned his temple against her head and drew in a shaking lungful of her incomparable sweetness "You'll see... I can make this thing work."

And he wanted to. _So bad._

Bella sniffled again wretchedly and then picked her head up off his shoulder, oddly seeming to start at the proximity of his face. At Jasper's six feet, her petit little body only came up to his jaw, but it was a much more reasonable height differential than she was used to, he supposed. He smiled, both at that thought and at how her lovely dark eyes blinked furiously at the closeness.

Jasper's hand came up to carefully brush back the tendrils of hair that were stuck in her sorrow as his gaze washed in relish over every inch of her delicate features. They were so open and ingenious - not striking, but gentle, organic and balanced.

And so kind. So very kind and so... _Bella_.

"Why is it even worth it?" Bella pushed the words out in a whimper and Jasper's gaze snapped back to her eyes that were desperately searching his for hope. "I mean... what does _more time_ even matter?"

With a concerned furrow to his brow, he tilted his head, dreamily watching the tremble in that full lower lip. He brought up a hand to still it, both his gaze and his fingertip inadvertently getting stuck there.

Bella pressed her lips together and subtly pulled back.

Blinking, his gaze darted up to hers. He'd gone too far.

Drawing in a resetting breath he let his hand fall from her face to wrap loosely around her waist with the other. "Well..." he began softly. "I figure the more time we get, the more we can see if we can figure more about this take-over. Maybe make a play to our advantage."

And _that_ was the truth... what he couldn't admit to her was that he couldn't imagine even the wildest scenario where Bella stayed human.

What he couldn't admit to himself was _that he didn't mind that cold, hard fact one damn bit_. There was something deep and sick in him that dared hope that - in another life - she might choose him.

He _hoped_. Jasper hadn't felt that feeling in so very long.

Bella's huge liquid eyes were desperate as they darted between his. "B-ut do you think...w-will it all work?" she breathed.

At the pain in that gaze, he trolled himself up from the deep and his face softened in sympathy. "It just might, darlin'. And if anyone can make it work..." he raised his brows in cocky assurance. Even though he wasn't sure of anything at the moment, she needed to have faith.

Bella swallowed thickly and collapsed her forehead against his shoulder, measuring her hitching breath.

Jasper smoothed a palm tenderly over the back of her head as he slipped back blissfully into the sultry seas of her honeyed scent and the call of her blood. As that burning hunger awoke like a dragon, Jasper's hand stilled in its rhythmic strokes as a selfish, despicable… but brilliant idea whispered in his ear like the devil that sat on his shoulder.

_Dare he ask? _

"There's one more thing we can do, Bella..." he began in a voice that was stretched over misplaced yearning.

And soul-rotting anticipation.

When words failed him, Bella picked her head up and stared up into his face expectantly.

Jasper swallowed down a wash of venom, bringing his hand around to ghost his knuckles over her cheekbone. "Well... we're supposed to be mates..." he began in no more than a hesitant breath as he struggled against the hypnotic thud of her heart, not six inches away from where his used to beat.

Bella stiffened in his arms, taking a step back.

His hands smoothed down her upper arms, soothingly before they dropped to his side. "The thing is... they'll be able to smell it on me that I didn't-..."

Bella literally jumped back, her eyes rounding like saucers, as she scrabbled away from him, nearly tripping over the chair in her haste.

"N-no!" she gasped hoarsely. "I won't do _that_!"

It was the reaction he had expected. He sighed in disappointment as he leaned his hip against the armrest as Bella continued to frantically retreat across the cabin, horror pulling at her face.

Jasper blinked suddenly though the haze of hunger and cocked his head curiously. Something wasn't right.

_Oh, no_...

"Wait!" Jasper nearly choked. "Not _that_!"

Bella froze, eyeing him suspiciously.

He gave her his best sly smile. "As _enjoyable_ as _that_ would be, little darlin', I think they'd understand why this situation wouldn't exactly cultivate _that _kind of intimacy," he chuckled to himself. He'd blundered this proposition right enough, but if she thought he would seduce her like _this_, he had hopelessly bungled his reputation as well.

Bella frowned in confusion as she pulled both shoulders up to her ears, rubbing her hands on her jeans nervously. "I-it's just with the wolves..." she hedged uncomfortably, as her pale shock ripened rosy with embarrassment.

Jasper folded his hands in his lap, still chuckling to himself about the absurdity of it all.

"I know. It's not like that with us," he soothed, smothering his amusement. She had lived so long among them she didn't even understand how odd this conversation would seem to a human.

Her shapeshifter Pack were feral animals, alright – intensely tuned to sex, possession and scent. Come to think of it that way, Jasper was the same. Luckily he wagered she just needed little less than a shower to wash that wet dog from her delectable scent – she didn't smell of sex. Jasper had noticed, he was ashamed to admit.

But dangerous obsession aside, for this ruse's sake, it was a good thing that she hadn't slept with her wolf in several days or even the Volturi would have been distracted enough from her ambrosial scent and their bloodlust to scent it.

Both those thoughts brought about a flash of jealousy that shocked the living hell out of him.

He desperately tried to switch tracks and sooth the blushing woman still staring at him suspiciously across the plane. "For us..." he began, drawing in a deep breath through his mouth to sequester himself from that delectable scent. "They'll know something's afoot because...well, to put it plainly, there's _no way in hell_ I would forgo a little indulgence on this plane ride, if this were our...um, _arrangement_," he said pointedly. "Which they think it is."

Jasper watched comprehension overtake her mortification. Bella's mouth popped open in a soundless O like the open book she was. She really was the sweetest little thing.

"So you want to…" she cleared her throat uncomfortably. "_drink_?"

"They can smell it if I do," Jasper tried on a casual shrug that jerked his shoulders. "It's your call, darlin'."

Those words seemed to kick start her brain and Bella began to pace again, pulling her hair back into a frenzied twist.

Eerily, at that moment there was a demure chime that announced a smooth male's voice lathered in a rich Italian accent. "Sir, I'd like to alert you that in one hour's time we will begin the descent to Roma."

Bella glared up at the speaker and then skewered Jasper with a glare. "You planned that!" she accused.

"Now, I'm good an' all, darlin'," Jasper muted his grin with pursed lips. "But not _that_ good."

Bella rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself as she spun on her heel.

Jasper tried to lose that insatiable hunger – and anticipation – in admiration for the way her long locks swung over her very attractive little bottom with each infuriated step, He leaned back against the chair and drew in a full lungful of the tantalizing bouquet of a frustrated Bella. He couldn't actually believe she was considering it. His hands began to quiver against his thighs.

Suddenly she spun around, her hands finding her hips. "Okay," she bit out resentfully.

Jasper's head jerked up in patent shock. _Yes_?

"You can, like... not tear me to pieces or anything, right?" she glared at him. "Not that it'd matter at this point," she added under her breath.

Jasper stood, rubbing his hands against his slacks in shock as venom charged unapologetically through his veins. "I haven't yet, have I?" he drawled with what was supposed to be reassuring humor.

But Bella blanched, her hands slipping from her hips.

_Fear_.

He quickly switched tacks. "Of course not, darlin'. You won't feel a thing," he crooned.

Sniffling once, she rubbed her face briskly and shoved her bare arm out toward him. "Okay," she repeated tersely.

Jasper froze, his gaze snapping inadvertently to the smooth creamy skin marred by the telltale double crescent. _James_.

Suddenly he realized just how much he was asking of her. _James_. Then _Edward_.

Now _him_.

His voice sounded just as raspy and desperate as he felt. "Are you sure?" he forced the question out even as his feet took steps toward her on their hypnotic own.

Bella gulped at whatever she saw in his face as a visible tremor rolled down her body.

It was automatic. Jasper sent out the warm thrall laced with the comfort of his gifts.

"No!" she ground out as she shook her head violently as if to clear it.

Jasper immediately snapped them both back, tearing his gaze from that tempting, offered arm to find her face.

"Not like that," she gasped under the weight of the thrall as it dissipated.

Jasper shook his head in in overstated solemnity. "I won't use anything,_ I promise_," he assured her breathily with a little too much eagerness as he took two more steps.

It stopped him cold. His feeding instinct was rising, ominous and lethal. Pinching his nose and closing his eyes, he forced himself above the ravenous tide. There was nothing he had done in all his many years that was as dangerous as this. Frankly he couldn't believe he was attempting it at all.

But while he had made the proposition in weakness, every last bit of it was true. Scenting of Bella's blood would go a long way in selling their story and making the Volturi just a little less testy. Opening his eyes again, Jasper's gaze met Bella's wide, frightened eyes. He took several more steps toward her, and she backed away, her arm dropping limply to her side.

"Shh, I promise, darlin'," he murmured, sincere and real this time. "I won't hurt you."

And he'd put everything he had into making sure that he didn't. He'd gotten good at this over these years and he could show her it could be different. _He would._

Eyes locked with hers, he took the last few steps and stopped, taking in the way her lip trembled along with the silent tears that slipped over her cheeks.

"I feel your fear, Bella," he whispered.

Because he did... he really did. And it disturbed him something fierce. It was completely novel to experience emotions like this without trying to shape them. "I don't want you to be afraid," he murmured.

Bella was obviously trying to smother sobs that bobbed restlessly in her chest. She bit her lip and nodded mutely as a surge of tears rushed over her cheeks.

It was _heartbreaking_.

Stricken, Jasper's face crumpled in sorrow. In all his wildest dreams he'd never expect such an _anticipated_ and hallowed moment to be so_ painful. _As if she'd read his thoughts, Bella's sensitive brow dipped in concern and she brought her hand up to rest tenderly against his cheek.

That_ touch_…

Kind. Comforting. Redemptive.

Even now.

Jasper's eyes fluttered closed as he reveled in the thing that was arguably even more exquisite than her blood: her compassion.

Bella's hand slipped down and he felt her fingers brush lightly over lips he realized were trembling and his eyes popped back open to her bottomless gaze. Slowly, deliberately, she slid her hand over his mouth, bringing her wrist to rest against it.

"Do it," she breathed, her eyes intense and still.

Licking his lips, Jasper's tongue inadvertently brushed across her fragrant skin and his entire body seized. He shakily brought his hand up to wrap around her forearm. Swallowing thickly Jasper pressed his lips in a slow, reverent kiss against the frantic pulse racing under her skin as he folded fluidly to his knees before her.

Bella's eyelashes fluttered in surprise.

As if in a dream - and there had been _many_ dreams - he closed his eyes and brought his focus to the sweet rhythmic gush that pushed against her delicate satin skin under his lips. His tongue peeked out to trace her blue pulse sprinting with the undeniable syncopation of fear.

And it was only then that he realized she had offered him her unblemished arm. It was the most precious gesture he'd ever been given and made his dead heart ache.

"Oh, Bella..." he whispered sadly against her skin, his own cold breath rebounding over his cheeks.

How could he have been reduced to such a monstrous moment with such a woman? If things were different -... if _he _were different -...he stopped that thought in its tracks.

And Jasper bit.

His razor teeth effortlessly cleaved skin, as he vaguely heard Bella's soft, strangled gasp.

But Jasper was instantly overcome. The sweetest liquor imaginable spurted down his throat, dousing the burning flames, soothing that ache on contact, making his heart feel like it was beating again.

Jasper sighed in ecstasy as his eyes rolled back in his head with rapture. He pressed her arm to his lips more forcefully, gripping her with both hands. Her taste was even more ambrosial than his memory - a confection without equal.

And an answering gluttony instantly blackened his vision. His entire world contracted to nothing else but this. This fullness, this stillness, this peace: this resplendent elixir that alone quenched a thirst and yearning so profound that he ...

"_J-Jasper_," Bella's soft moan hit him like a slap, and he choked.

His eyes fought their way open as if they weighed a thousand pounds each. Bella was swaying on her feet, slowly crumpling forward.

He was a hair's breadth from losing himself like no other time in his life.

And if he lost himself right now - with _this_ woman - he'd _never_ reemerge from that dark hell again.

Gulping the mouthful of blood that had leached from her willing veins, he tried to muster his restraint as he reached up and caught Bella as she collapsed against him. He scooped up her tiny body in one arm and pulled her to his chest, cradling her against him.

Even while his grotesque wet gulps of her life paraded steadily onward.

With a breathy gasp, her head lolled against his shoulder. Her eyes were rolled back, her nostrils flared, her lips sumptuously parted: an expression of sensual surrender. Or pure and ingenuous trust.

Or worse... both, at the same time.

Jasper stopped suckling as his gaze ran over the woman, her breath now deep and even as her slowed heart pushed her blood into his mouth with each beat as loud as thunder.

_He needed to stop._

Swallowing one last divine mouthful, he instantly switched the rhythm and draw of his lips to pull the bitter venom carefully back through her veins. As the effects of the numbing poison receded, Bella's eyes fluttered back open to stare up at him: intense, unguarded... present. Even while she willingly surrendered her sweet, warm life to his greed.

It was the most intimate and precious moment Jasper had ever experienced in either of his lives.

With a final swallow, his hand slipped around to clasp over the expert incision - wasting not a drop of priceless life and putting just enough pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. He lowered her arm to her stomach, holding it there, and silently returned her stare.

Bella attempted a wan smile, her eyes drunk and heavy from the residual effects of his predator venom. "Th-that's it?" she whispered hoarsely.

Jasper licked his lips and nodded, his gaze caught in the yawning thrall of her eyes.

Bella's hand slowly made its way to his face and he didn't move a muscle. He felt the light touch of her fingers as she clumsily wiped at her own blood on his lips. She pulled her hand back and her brow dipped as she examined it, idly rubbing the vivid crimson between pale fingers. Then her gaze darted back to his and her hand fell heavily back to her side.

"I'm so tired," she mumbled.

Jasper cleared a throat that was already burning again. "It'll pass...it's just the venom," he whispered. "And the blood loss."

Bella pressed her lips together and nodded.

"You should sleep," he urged softly, rearranging her in his lap and praying that she didn't ask to leave his arms.

"No," she breathed.

Jasper blinked.

She slowly brought a hand still smeared with her own blood to fist over her heart as she sighed sadly. "If I sleep... then I'll dream." Her gaze flitted up to meet his. "And if I dream, he'll find me." Then dully, weakly, she turned away from him and stared off into space, sadness welling up around her. Jasper remembered with a twinge of jealousy that sharing dreams was part of their supernatural bond - and the single reason Edward hadn't succeeded in taking her life.

His gaze washed over her desolate expression in concern.

"And then he'll know what I've done," she whispered.

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_Review if you like. _


	7. Beautiful Friends

Dpennell, you may want to save this for the train ride. I don't know if I'll get another up on Monday. ;-)

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Perceptions are crazy things. Hopefully you're catching a little of the kaleidoscope character play in the different POVs. This chap shows a little of just who actually sees Bella for who she is... and who she could be. Whoever can do that for you in your RL is def a keeper.

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Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 7 – Beautiful Friends<strong>

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_Just how far would she go?_

Bella turned the question over and over in her bruised and battered heart while needles of water from the hotel's overeager shower pelted across her cheeks. The discomfort of the biting water was somehow comforting; it made her feel alive when she already felt dead inside.

Bella tipped her head back under the spray. The scalding water could erase the scent of her past – of Paul and her Pack, according to Jasper - but it couldn't wash away the sense of betrayal. She couldn't feel the pull of her mate's proximity any more since she was halfway around the world, but still she knew, beyond a doubt, what he was feeling right now.

_Betrayal._

Bella closed her eyes for a moment and took a gulping breath of the smothering humidity as her tears joined the burning spray. The water blithely coursed down her hair and made it slap against her butt.

A brusque knock at the door made her head jerk toward it.

"Hate to rush a lady along," Jasper drawled. "But we need to leave soon, darlin'."

They'd rented a hotel room in Volterra so they could freshen up and shuck off her past life. Jasper had already effectively erased her existance in the modern world at large. It had only taken forty-three minutes; Bella had counted as Jasper callously deleted or altered every Facebook post, every picture, video, newspaper article, marriage announcement, birth announcement – anything that referenced Paul or Caleb and Bella.

Biting her lip to smother her sob, Bella jerked off the water and her gaze got caught on the neat perforated crescent on her wrist. Idle fingers traced the burning mark as she shook her head at the hopelessness of it all. If Paul knew what she was going to do - if he knew what she had already done - he would hate her even more than he already did for leaving.

This was all nothing but a heartbreaking and hopeless careen down to hell.

But at least she'd succeeded at being smart this time - well, smarter than the last time she'd had to play mind games with a crazed vampire. With Edward she'd let her righteousness and pride get in the way of playing her meager human hand of cards: she'd called him on every one of his sick delusions. After years of cowing, she'd drawn the line and stood up for herself and, while it had felt freaking awesome, it had nearly cost her everything.

And this time the stakes were _so much higher_.

Paul. Caleb.

Her bond to each of them was different, but each equally profound. And for them she bartered, reckless and aggressive, with the only chip she had in this game: her life. Yes, she was willing to bet it all for the safety of her imprint and child: her humanity, her future, her happiness, her soul.

Everything except her heart, for it irrevocably belonged to them alone.

And that meant she had done everything she could to keep Jasper on her side. She'd have had to have been a fool (or maybe just five years younger) not to see the frightening infatuation Jasper had tried to hide. It seemed like he either wanted to eat her or claim her – or both.

Just like Edward.

She didn't understand it. Jasper had always been a man bound by honor, or so she'd thought. He was also the single one of the Cullens who seemed to know and accept what he was. However right now, he was lost… she could see it in his eyes.

But if there was one thing Bella was good at, it was watching. She paid attention to each weighted glance, each furtive innuendo, each subtle psychological cue he let slip and filed them all away in the back of a mind that was working overtime to think about later.

And until then, she would shamelessly use that power she seemed to hold over him.

_Whatever_ she had to do… up to a point.

She sniffed a laugh at her earlier misunderstanding. She wouldn't sleep with him.

No that wasn't right… she'd sell her body the same as her soul if it kept her mate and child safe. She just hoped to God it never came to that.

With a frustrated sigh, she wrapped her hair in a towel and dried off. She wished things weren't so complicated with Jasper and he could just be a friend. Bella could use a friend right about now.

She smeared a palm over the steam on the mirror and frowned at her reflection. She needed to stop with the self-pity and _focus_. In half an hour she would be facing the most powerful monster on the planet – as even Jasper grudgingly conceded.

Suffice it to say, her skinny human ass felt pitifully out of its league.

Best to keep it simple: focus on _not_ lying as much as she could – vampires could smell it like wolves apparently – all while not being distracted by Jasper's emotional manipulation. She quickly dressed in the cotton Capri's and simple blouse she had bought in the airport and deftly braided her hair while she repeated that mantra over and over.

Taking a deep breath she opened the door to Jasper's nerves. Oh, he was casually draped across the crisp double bed, his fingers poised on the keyboard of a sleek laptop, a sly smile quirking his lips: by all outward appearances he was the epitome of ease. But his eyes – those eerie, pink, opalescent eyes – looked like they were a hundred years old.

Which Bella guessed was just about right.

Her hysteria broke free in chuckles at the humor as she unceremoniously dumped her towel and tainted clothes into the room.

"Well I hope you won't be stingy with the levity there, darlin'," his smile broadened, peeling back from those razor teeth. "'Cause I could use me a laugh right about now."

"It's nothing," Bella sniffed and brought her shoulder up to her ear. "It's just… you look nervous," she added quietly.

Jasper lifted a cool brow. "Do I now?" he crooned. In less time than it took her to blink, he had somehow vaulted off the bed and was standing inches before her.

Bella sucked in a breath of surprise and took a jerky step back as her pulse sprinted.

Jasper's eyes washed over her face with contrasting leisure. "That's right – just be yourself, Bella," he whispered as if it had been some sort of test. "Your sweet lil' human self."

Bella's eyes darted between his, trying to understand through wash of adrenaline.

"He's going to try and surprise you – touch you a little?" Jasper murmured as he cocked his head. "Shock you," Jasper's hand came up slowly to pull the braid from behind her back. "To get us to show our cards."

Bella's brow furrowed as she fought the urge to pull away. Jasper's graceful fingers slipped down the thick, wet braid.

"I th-thought," Bella cleared her throat. "I thought you'd never met him."

"That's right," Jasper's eyes darted back to hers. "But the Volturi have a certain _reputation_..."

Bella licked her lips as Jasper's hand shimmied the band off the end of the plait.

"Best to leave this loose. It'll distract 'em," he whispered as an aside while his fingers began weaving through the strands, unbraiding it. "Our kind have a penchant for living beauty."

Bella swallowed as she watched his enthralled face while his hands sensuously combed through her hair. No one was supposed to touch her like this. No one but Paul.

"So are you ready for all that?" Jasper murmured sounding like he was drunk. He met her eyes. "The Volturi like to play with their food."

Bella' s hand slipped up to pull the hair from his grasp as she took a subtle step back. "Then we'll just have to make sure he remembers," she bit out quietly. "I'm a tactical _advantage_, not an appetizer,"

Jasper's sparkling eyes again found hers and he chuckled richly. "You really _are_ all grown up now, aren't you?" he winked at her.

Bella's eyes fluttered with her long-suffering sigh. It was so hard to keep up with mercurial vampires and their abrupt shifts in mood. She should just stop trying. His patronizing annoyed the crap out of her, but in some ways it was best this way. If he thought her nothing more than a "sweet lil human" then it would be easier to manipulate him.

With another soft laugh at her frustration, he then turned back to the bed at a normal human pace and closed his laptop.

Taking a stealing breath, Bella crossed to the tall, French windows and idly peered over the medieval city's tiled rooftops as she tried to rein in her spinning mind.

"So darlin'…"

Bella glanced over her shoulder to find Jasper carefully repacking his bag, his back pointedly to her. "I expect you're gonna learn a few unsavory details about me in this little rendezvous …"

The words took her by surprise and instantly refocused her attention. She rubbed her palms on her thighs as she turned around. "Like what?"

"Well, I don't want to go spoilin' the surprise, now," he barked a laugh edged with bitterness.

Bella tipped her head as she considered his back. She'd never seen the self-loathing cracks in his confidence before.

Jasper zipped up the bag and stared at it for a moment. "But I think they'll bring it out all the same." He turned and met her gaze with an unreadable expression. "Remember, just react to everything like … I'm your long-time lover."

Bella swallowed and nodded. Her nerves were so frayed at this point, she was shocked she was keeping it together at all_._

As if Jasper could feel her anxiety slowly winding its choking hold around her throat – Bella supposed he could – his brow knit in concern. He crossed the room in two supple strides and snaked a hand along her jaw as his piercing eyes darted between hers.

"I'm sorry, Bella." For once his jaunty drawl was ironed out to sincerity and the apology seemed somehow to extend way beyond the events of the last two days.

Bella nodded imperceptibly and her eyes dipped between them; she didn't understand that fiercely searching gaze. But she understood what Jasper wanted, and she was good at giving people what they wanted. She'd had a lifetime of it.

And she'd give it to him... as long as he gave her what she _needed_.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, steeling herself for the play.

Clearing her throat, her hand shamelessly snaked up to cover his cheek with all the tenderness she could muster. "I need Paul and Caleb to be safe, Jasper," she whispered. She slowly lifted her eyes to his, letting the grave petition intensify her gaze.

"_Please_… if I have to get turned… or-… or whatever," she turned her wrist over slowly and watched his pupils dilate as they snapped ferally to the wound.

She waited until his control had returned before she continued and his gaze found hers again. "_No matter what_, Jasper. I _need_ them to be safe," she crooned softly in the voice she usually used for her wolf as she slowly stroked her fingers down to his jaw.

Jasper's piercing eyes darted between hers and she watched his Adam's apple bob with his swallow.

"I'll do my best," he breathed. "You have my word."

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"They're on their way," Sam murmured as he texted back and flipped the phone closed.

With a heavy sigh, he collapsed on one the benches that ran the length of both sides of the table that took up their whole kitchen.

"Okay," Emily whispered from where she was peeling hotcakes off the skillet at the stove.

Sam watched her work for a minute, her long braid swaying down her back as she carefully stacked the last batch of pancakes and checked the sausages in the oven. The early Sunday morning sky was still dark, but they had both agreed that the sleepless night had lasted long enough. Wordlessly they had dressed and made their way down to the kitchen to start the Sunday morning ritual of preparing the Pack breakfast.

Usually Sunday morning was magical. They prepared the meal together - Emily's Celtic music weaving through the fledgling day - with smiles and touches and private laughter. After a week of work and a Saturday filled with endless Tribe meetings and chores, Sunday was for them alone. For Sam and Emily…

And their family: their Pack.

But this morning his mate moved about her beloved kitchen in the spirit of duty alone, the same invisible weight bowing her shoulders that Sam felt. It wasn't the same. Sam wondered if it ever again would be.

Bella was gone.

Sam blew a breath out from his cheeks and leaned his elbows on his thighs as he let his head hang dejectedly.

And, predictably, they hadn't been able to trace her.

Friday night and Saturday had been spent hunched over computers in the Police station beside a distraught Chief Swan – Paul slumped in a nearby institutional chair – while the Pack had scoured every last inch of the surrounding 50 miles. Over and over. The deja-vue threw them all back five years.

"He wants to talk about Paul?" Emily's voice was soft and hoarse from lack of sleep.

Sam turned the cell over idly in his hands that dwarfed it. "Yeah," he sighed.

"The Alpha thing?" Emily asked quietly and Sam looked up to find her staring blankly at the empty griddle.

They'd talked into the night - until words had been spent – about many, many things… including Sam's worries about what Paul's break of the Order meant to the Pack.

"Yeah, probably," Sam murmured and the heaved out a sigh as he sat up a bit straighter. "It's a big thing, Em. A real big thing."

And it was: in one measly night, Bella had torn the Pack's heart out… and Paul had single-handedly finished the job by ripping it apart.

Sam flipped the phone over and over in his hands as his mind raced. He was someone who was comfortable in the black and white of rules, without them he felt like he was free-falling.

Emily paused, propping her hands on the counter as she rolled her neck. "What's going to happen," she breathed. And he knew that that question extended far past the intricacies of Pack politics and rank.

Sam's hands stilled for a moment and his finger absently traced the design of the cell. "I don't know, Em."

And he didn't.

A soft skittering sizzle pulled Sam from his musings. His head jerked up to see his mate's shoulders quivering as tears fell, dancing gaily across the empty griddle.

"Oh, Emmy," he sighed as he pushed off the bench and tossed the phone on the pile of bills on the table. In two steps he was snaking his arms around his wife's swelling belly and pulling her back into a tender embrace.

"Shh, it'll be okay," he murmured into her hair as he leaned around and tried to capture those tears on his tongue.

"H-how?" Emily choked as her shoulders began to shake.

Sam turned her in his arms and gently pulled her head to his shoulder, holding her there while her sorrow finally broke free in heartbreaking sobs.

"God, I'm sorry, Emmy," Sam crooned.

He rocked her slowly back and forth as he rested his cheek against her silky black hair. Gathering her up in his arms, he lifted her effortlessly up to sit on the counter. Emily hung her head forlornly, as the tears continued to spill. Smoothing her hair back from her smooth tear stained cheeks he stooped and looked up into her eyes. Every time he looked at her, he still saw the scars he'd made – even though they'd been expertly erased by surgery years ago. He hated managing the money that the bloodsuckers had left Bella, but he hadn't minded using it to heal his mate a little.

It had been Bella's idea.

"I don't even know how to deal with this shit, Em. It hurts so bad," he whispered – raw and open and real

"H-how c-ould she leave us, Sam? We were all such beautiful friends," she hiccupped.

Sam nodded as he traced a finger along her jaw. They were indeed. Jacob, Sam and Paul were the three most dominant wolves in the Pack and the three sets of mates were inseparable– well, technically Jacob and Leah still weren't mated (a perplexingly sore subject at best).

Like Cat's Cradle, the complex bonds that overlapped and wove the six of them together seemed unbreakable: Emily was best friends with Bella and close with her cousin - their hurtful conflicts relegated to history long ago. Sam was best friends with Paul and close with his Alpha. Bella and Jake still held a deep and abiding bond as deep as blood and Leah had a certain affinity with Paul.

Bella leaving was like yanking out the cornerstone and it felt like all they'd built over the years was tumbling down.

Emily stared up into his eyes with the same thoughts playing in those black watery eyes. Her lip quivered, "But how could she leave C-Caleb… " Emily quavered and then her brow furrowed in utter disbelief. "How could she leave _Paul_?"

Her face crumpled miserably and Sam stepped in to draw her again to his chest. Most parents could understand the fierce love one felt for a child, but it was only Sam and Emily who understood the sheer soul-rending impossibility of leaving an imprint. They were the only other imprinted couple in the Pack.

"It was hard," Sam murmured. "You know it was hard."

He swallowed. But only he and Paul knew just how hard it must have been for her to leave with a fucking _leech_.

After what one of them had done.

"Look, Em. I never told you," he began.

Emily's face jerked up. That had gotten her attention like nothing else he could say: they told each other everything. Sam smiled and leaned against the counter, taking her hand in his.

"One night when we were running patrols together…Paul let his guard down and let me into his head," he admitted quietly. "He showed me snatches of visions. Visions of what Bella went through. What he saw through his bond," his voice shredded hoarsely as he closed his eyes against those dark images that were violating even as memories.

He continued, his voice halting and rough. "He told me he wanted me to … _understand_… what she'd been through and how hard she'd fought since I'd been there -…" his voice cracked and Emily squeezed his hand.

Sam stared down at her delicate hand in his. "Really, I think he just couldn't stand to be alone with it anymore," he mused as he traced her knuckles with shaking fingers. Taking a deep resetting breath he looked back up to Emily's concerned gaze. "She fought hard, Em. She fought _so fucking hard_ against that sonofabitch."

Emily drew in a shaking breath as her other hand covered his, of course ignoring the curses she usually corrected.

"She's not that little girl anymore who fell under the spell of the first monster who paid her attention," Sam said vehemently. "She's a grown woman with a Pack, a child and mate. An _imprint_," he pressed. "And if she left, there was a good reason. If she left, it was to keep us safe," his gaze darted searchingly between her eyes. "She's not gonna give up, Em. She's gonna fight. She's gonna fight 'em hard."

"I know, Sam," Emily pressed her lips together and sniffled wretchedly. "I'm j-just so worried…I love her.. and-" she swallowed her words along with a sob.

Sam sighed and brought her fingers up to lips, pressing them against her knuckles for an entire breath. "They're here, Em," Sam whispered over the back of her hand.

Emily pulled from his grasp and impatiently wiped at her cheeks as she started to scoot off the counter.

"Ah!" Sam admonished with a smile as his arms wrapped around his pregnant mate and pulled her off into his arms. Gently he let her feet to the ground, relishing the way the swell of her body, ripening with their child, felt dragging over him.

"Love you, Emmy," leaning down, Sam tipped her face up with a finger under her chin and pressed his lips to hers.

Like magic their imprint took over, siphoning passion through all the viscous mourning. For an indulgent moment Sam's lips danced over hers, brushing lovingly over her silken mouth and watching the little starbursts that bloomed behind his eyes. Emily was a blessed moment of respite in even the most turbulent of storms.

Always.

"Nice to see some shit never changes."

Sam's lips curved into a smile and his eyes darted up to where Leah was laughing with feigned derision at the door. Emily pushed against his chest in embarassment.

Sam reluctantly released his wife who was promptly usurped by Jacob as he grabbed her up into his beefy arms.

"Hey Em, " he rumbled with a kiss to her blushing cheek and his usual disregard for personal space. He indulgently inhaled her pregnancy-sweetened scent.

Emily snorted good-naturedly and pried him off.

"Good morning to you too," she laughed softly, as she turned to the counter. "I'll bet you guys could use some coffee."

"Hell, yeah," Jake murmured in a gravelly voice, rubbing a bleary hand over a face that was still mottled by bruising.

"I'll get it, Em," Sam murmured his fingers dragging lovingly down her arm. "Sit down."

Leah pushed Jacob jokingly out of the way and placed a sweet kiss on her cheek. As she turned to steer her cousin to the table, she bumped knuckles collegially with Sam. They had all accepted by now that wolves needed touch; it was an instinctual compulsion even in human form to connect every chance they could. Figuring out how to do that within the confines of human sensibilities had been something they'd all become expert at over the years.

Jacob clapped Sam on the shoulder. "How you doin'?" he asked in a low voice.

Sam tore his eyes from where they'd habitually followed his mate and met Jacob's somber gaze. He nodded once.

Jacob searched his face for a moment longer and then turned to the cupboard to pull out mugs. Sam grabbed the pot of coffee.

"How's Paul," Jacob murmured under his breath as he placed the last of the four mugs on the counter with a click.

Sam huffed a breath from his cheeks. "I dunno," he admitted quietly. "He -… Caleb-…" Sam let the hopeless words die on his lips and opted to pour the steaming black coffee into one of the mugs instead.

Caleb and Paul had spent the night in the guest room of their house. It had been a gutting thing for his supernatural hearing to witness: after Caleb had finally sobbed himself to sleep against his father in the small double bed, Paul's whisper step had ghosted across the floorboards. The soft, groaning of the old rocker had counted out the remaining seconds of an interminable night.

Instead of pressing him for more, Jacob snatched a pancake off the stack and shoved it in his mouth. Their Alpha was good like that: as sensitive as he was hard-assed. A crazy combination that held them all together in a way Sam had never mastered.

Wordlessly their Alpha grabbed up three of the filled mugs in his hands and ferried them to the table while Sam prepared Emily's herbal tea.

After restlessly dunking the bag several times and taking a moment to resurface from his thoughts, Sam turned to the table.

Emily sat across for her cousin, head hanging forlornly while Leah watched her with concern over the steaming mug she lifted to her mouth. Jake caught his gaze, cutting his eyes over to Emily briefly with silent questions.

Sam pressed his lips together as he stepped over the bench to sit beside his imprint. He set her tea down in front of her and wrapped a comforting hand around her shoulders. Emily leaned into him as she listlessly picked up the square of paper dangling from the teabag string and examined it dully.

"How're you guys doing?" Sam asked finally with an air of opening up the floor as he picked up his own coffee and took a sip of the liquid as bitter as this conversation was going to be.

"Yeah, you know," Jake sighed leaning his forearm on the table before him. "At least my fucking face has finally healed."

Sam looked up with assessing eyes. He _did_ look a lot better than he had yesterday. Jacob had spent most of Saturday healing, while Leah led the Pack in their futile search. Injuries inflicted by Packmates healed at a much slower pace, because they were a _different_ type of injury altogether. Especially if it was a vie for dominance.

And all the Pack felt it.

Jacob ignored his appraisal and took a generous gulp of his coffee. He set the mug down with a clack and smacked his lips.

Sam rubbed Emily's shoulders soothingly and waited.

"I'm worried, Sam," Jacob whispered finally.

Sam's gaze fell to the table. "The Alpha thing?" he asked, starting at the most natural point of discussion for him. It was the most strategic and, not so coincidentally, the farthest from emotion.

"What?" Jacob balked.

Frowning, Sam looked up at Jacob's comical gape. Blinking rapidly he clarified, "you know… it's kinda a shitty time to have to deal with the Pack falling-"

Jacob slapped the table. "Shit, Sammy," Jacob groaned with a long-suffering eye roll that made Sam sit up in annoyance.

"You think they don't know I'd thrash their sorry asses if anyone else even _thought_ of trying that shit with me?" Jacob's coughed a laugh. As an afterthought he added, "'goes double for you, by the way." His lips stretched out into a saccharine grin.

"But…" Sam began, bewildered. "He broke the Order and-…"

"So?" Jacob raised his brows and waited.

Sam stammered as his linear, by-the-books mind desperately searched for traction. "It's the Pack's prime directive. The Order holds us all together," he rebutted, pulling his arm from around Emily's shoulders so he could cross them defensively over his chest.

"In someone else's playbook, maybe," Jacob snorted dismissively. He leaned over the table, propping both arms before him. "Sam, we threw that shit out years ago when we defied the Council when those bloodsuckers first took Bella. The old ways don't work anymore – or not all of 'em anyway. _We_ make our rules," his expression was earnest and impassioned, as if he were trying to teach one of the cubs something very important.

And Sam supposed he was.

Sam's gaze darted the air-tight self-assurance in his Alpha's face. Then he burst into a deep belly laugh, letting his head fall back as he slapped his hands on the table.

Jacob was right (which he usually was when it came down to people or Pack).

Sam had made the same assumptions as most of them about Jacob when was younger: _sunny, funny Jake_. But that naïve, idealistic boy had grown before his eyes into an insightful and charismatic leader who ruled with creativity and heart. And Sam – and every last one of them – had grown to respect him immensely.

He didn't know why he continued to be surprised when Jacob pulled the rug out from his ordered, practical world and then helped him back up to his feet again with a sunny grin.

Sam shook his head incredulously and wrapped his arm around his imprint again as the wolf relaxed into his Alpha's unshakable containment.

"C'mon everyone always knew Paul could whoop any of our asses in a heartbeat if he wanted," Jacob's lips peeled back from a sly smile. "Hell, when he's on his game, he could take on the whole Pack."

"You can't mess with the Dogfather," Leah wheezed in her best mafia imitation.

Emily giggled at his side and Sam grinned across the table gratefully as he joined with his deep chuckles. It was a running joke among the three couples: Jake was the King (or princess as Paul insisted), Sam the Prime Minister (or lady-in-waiting – also, Paul), and Paul was a Mafia Dom (a metaphor on which everyone could agree).

And while it had made for some hysterical repartee in the wee hours of happier days, it was also essentially true and a poignant metaphor for how Jacob ran the Pack. He recognized his weaknesses without ego and other's strength without resentment, all while pissing on convention. He had shared his position of power, which had, in effect, strengthened the Pack immeasurably. Instead of trying to do it all himself, he allowed the three men to be a complimentary tripod of leadership that formed an unshakable foundation for the Pack.

When Sam had commented on how many cooks there were in the kitchen, Jacob had laughed saying that he wasn't a fool; it made less work for him. But Sam wasn't either. It wasn't laziness that made Jacob bend over backwards to break every rule in the book if it benefited one of his own, it was leadership, pure and simple.

And Jacob had it.

The chuckles dissipated, along with the tension in the room– another thing he excelled at. Then Jacob's face slipped back into serious.

"Sam, the Pack will settle back down," his gaze darted between Emily and him inclusively, even while he instinctively pulled Leah into his side. "But we're worried about Paul," he glanced down at his lover. Leah leaned her cheek on his shoulder as her gaze found the table. "Leah thinks he's gonna want to leave, _before_ we see how this thing plays out…. And I do too."

A weighted silence descended on the room and Emily sighed heavily against him.

"And that's the _last_ thing any of us need," Jacob finished, lifting his mug and taking a thoughtful – and loud - slurping sip. "We gotta figure some way to keep him in the game until we hear from Bells," he paused, looking into his coffee. "… And figure out what the hell's going on," he growled.

Sam lowered his voice to a murmur, "do you want to take a walk? Paul's in the back room, but still…" Sam let his voice die at Jacob's frustrated groan.

His long arm darted out to the pile of bills on the table that had been conspicuously ignored yesterday. Snatching up a pen, he flipped over the electricity bill and scribbled messily on the back. Turning it around, he shoved it toward Sam and Emily.

'_No duh! It's Paul. We're talking __here__ cause he needs to hear this shit.'_

Sam rolled his eyes and turned the bill back over.

"We need him, Sam," Leah jumped into it and Sam realized that this had all been a carefully choreographed play. "_Caleb_ needs him. He's gonna feel like running, but it'll just make things worse – for Cay… the Pack… for Bella."

"I mean what happens when Bells calls – cause she _will_," Jacob added fiercely, sounding like he was trying to will it to happen. "If he's not here… if we have to chase him down, it'll just waste precious time."

"If she doesn't…" Sam spun the handle of the mug back and forth absently. "I followed the Cullen's money trail and tracked the attorney's office to the East Coast. So I'll call them first thing on Monday when they're open and see if they've got a number or something."

Jacob nodded encouragingly. "So we just gotta get him to hang on until then – but I'll bet we hear something from Bells before that."

"She'll figure out something," Sam murmured in agreement taking a sip of the coffee. "She did last time, and she'll do it again. That girl's kick-ass smart."

"She did this for _us_, her Pack, her family," Jacob's gaze panned around the table. "And we can't let her down by falling apart. It sucks, but we just gotta wait."

"Caleb needs his daddy," Emily interjected quietly, throwing her hat in the ring.

The three turned to where she was idly drawing the tea bag through the steaming liquid. "He's so upset," her voice quivered on breaking and Sam smoothed down her back. Emily swallowed thickly and her teary eyes looked up at the group. "It would break his heart if Paul left too."

Leah's hand shot out to cover her cousin's comfortingly. "Paul's an ass, but he's not stupid. He knows, Em."

"They can stay here as long as they want," Emily sniffled, desperately trying to do her part in this game of optimism. Her despair caved in on her though and she turned into Sam's shoulder taking deep shaking breaths and trying to silently shore up her sorrow.

"When Bells _does_ call, there's gonna be a whole lotta ass-kicking to do, Sam," Jacob's murderous hiss quickly steered them back from emotional territory. "We gotta figure out who's gonna do it _now_ and come up with a plan."

Sam looked up from comforting his wife. "If things are as bad as Bella thinks, at least four or five need to stay in case they come here – the rest should go. We gotta ask Paul what he thinks," he quickly added. He had thought about this too. He cleared his throat and then vetured softly, anticipating Emily's reaction, "I guess I'll be leading."

Emily's head jerked up, her eyes round with worry.

"Nope, you already got your turn," Jacob quickly shot it down. "_I'm_ going this time."

Sam met his gaze incredulously. "You're Alpha, you can't lea-"

"You and Jared will hold down the fort," Jacob continued emphatically over him - leaving no room for questions. "So that just leaves two others."

When Sam continued to stare at him, slack jawed, over the table, Jacob smirked. "Rules were made to be broken."

Sam looked down to where Emily was staring up at him wide-eyed as if begging him to agree. He leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Okay," he said slowly, adjusting to the idea. It actually did make tactical sense. Both Jared and he had mates … and cubs. It would be a distraction in battle if nothing else …and make them all the fiercer protecting their home.

Jacob continued as if there had been no bump in the road. "Lee-lee's goin' with me - of course - but what do you think about the others?"

Sam sat up a bit straighter as his mind revved into analytical overdrive. "Lee, do you want Seth to stay?"

She nodded curtly. "He's gonna be pissed, but he's good with the cubs and I..."

"He's agile – a good forward," Sam saved her from having to admit she couldn't bear to have him in danger. "Collin's big and plays a good fullback with Embry, but I think we need to keep him here. He works well with Jared and'll anchor Seth's offensive. And that'll round out the home team. "

Jacob nodded in agreement and Sam pulled his arm from around his wife to grasp his mug thoughtfully. "Jake, you're lead of course… Embry's linebacker, Quil switches well between offense and defense. Leah's fastest and'll be forward… and Paul..." Sam looked up with a grin. "Paul's gonna do all your jobs for you."

A slow smile bloomed on Jacob's lips. "Brady stays?"

"He gets to choose," Sam mused thoughtfully. "But I'd rather he went."

"He's good at strategy and running intel," Jacob agreed.

Leah snickered, "No, he'll keep Paul from killing you on the plane."

Jacob chuckled good-naturedly. They all knew it wasn't too far from the truth.

"I still have that leech's fake-ID contact," Sam continued. "I'll get on some passports for everyone. You're a South American rugby team?"

"As long as we're not going to South America again," Jacob wisely pointed out.

"Raven's up," Leah announced briskly.

Emily immediately straightened in her seat, wiping at her tear stained cheeks. Sam stood and helped her off the bench as he watched her struggle to scrape together her composure.

"Hey," he murmured softly as he snaked both hands along her jaw and tipped up that beautiful face. "It's gonna all work out, Emmy." He was feeling better after talking with Jacob.

Like always. They were all damn lucky sons of bitches.

Emily's eyes darted between his a moment. "You're just saying that," she breathed, nearly silent.

Sam froze. She was right, of course. She hadn't been fooled in the least by Jacob's clever play bent on giving the Wolves focus and direction. Something they all needed to keep from going mad.

Closing his eyes dolefully, he pulled his mate to his chest and held her cheek against his heart as their daughters soft footsteps fell slowly, one at a time downstairs in that uniquely toddler way.

"Mommy?" Raven's small voice piped up innocently even before she had padded into the kitchen. "Is Antiebells home yet?"

Emily pushed away from Sam's chest and wiped her nose briskly with the back of her hand. "No, honey," she answered softly as she walked around the table to tenderly stroke her rumpled black hair. "Not yet."

"Hi Uncle Chee an' Antie Lee" Raven called out incidentally. It was a common occurrence to find them at her breakfast table after all. "When Mommy?" she pressed.

"Soon, Rae-Rae," Sam answered, as he squatted down to kiss their daughter on her nose. "We have pancakes for breakfast," he distracted like the pro he was.

"Goody," Raven piped and trailed after her mother to the counter.

Sam turned back and skirted the table, plopping heavily down on the edge of the bench beside Jacob.

Jacob met his gaze briefly and then turned and squeezed his lover's hand. "Chica, give us a minute?"

Leah nodded with a subdued sigh and pushed off the bench.

Sam watched her stalk over to the counter and swing Raven up into her arms and smacking kisses that elicited a burst of giggles. Emily looked up with a grateful smile to her cousin as Leah situated the child on her shoulders.

"Look at these yummy pancakes that mommy made," Leah gushed. "With blueberries and everything. _All_ for me!"

"No! Li-li! No!" Raven squealed.

A soft smile quirked Sam's lips at the scene. Propping his elbows back on the table and leaned in close to Jacob's ear. "So, what about Bella? Did she ever tell you anything about these bloodsuckers?" he whispered quietly.

He had followed Jacob's lead and skirted discussing the most obvious and urgent concern: Bella's welfare.

Jacob tersely shook his head and Sam sighed, crossing his ankles out before him. He wiggled his toes idly as he considered his feet. "What do you think _her_ plan is? What's she gonna do?"

When Jacob didn't answer, Sam looked up. Gone was his Alpha's sunny bravado, gone was the confidence and brazen grandstanding. In a moment of transparency, duty's façade shimmered like a mirage, showing the gut-wrenching despair teeming under the surface.

Sam sucked in an inadvertent breath. Suddenly he realized just how much of an act his Alpha was putting on for their benefit. Inside he was being eaten alive with worry for their friend... their Packmate... their _sister_. And Sam saw the same familiar blame festering that he had felt when he'd lost her on _his _watch those years ago.

But it was _so much worse_.

Jacob and Bella had always had a special bond that had only deepened over the years. She wasn't just part of his Pack, she was part of his heart. Closer than a sister, in point of fact.

Sam's hand came up to clasp his shoulder in silent empathy.

Licking his lips, Jacob met Sam's gaze with eyes that were tormented.

"She'll give them _whatever _they want if it keeps us safe, Sam," he whispered in his ear, his voice hoarse and raw. "She knew she wasn't coming back. And it's our job…" he stared down at where his fingers were digging into the grain of the table like it was made of hard cheese. "It's _my_ job to string him along until it's time for revenge," he hissed.

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_Review if you like._


	8. Barters

Sorry for the delay and not hitting you back. My first week of a new job kicked my ass. I really really appreciate your F/B. I want to reassure folks on some of the fears, but also I don't because it takes out a "fun" tension from this story. Relax though in the faith that I have (I think) an excellent sense of romantic justice. All of these broken pieces/peeps are slated to heal.

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Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 - Barters<strong>

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"This is _**it**_?" a high laugh echoed through the room with the undisguised disgust one only ever hears on a playground.

After the twisting drive up into the hills to the ancient city, the scuttle through the summer rains and narrow streets, and then the maddeningly leisurely pace of their human guide down the underground tunnels…the suddenness of it was shocking.

And with no more than the subtle whoosh of displaced air, the room was instantly peppered with… vampires.

Bella literally jumped with a gasp, falling into Jasper who stood at her side.

He squeezed her hand in what was supposed to be reassurance. But Bella barely felt it. She knew they could move fast, but one moment the gaudy furniture sat grand and decidedly overstated in a huge parlor the size of Bella's entire house…

…. and the next it was home to over a dozen Volturi. As if they had been waiting for hours, they were draped over crushed velvet upholstery, perched on the top of a grand piano, standing at formal attention against walls… all as still and silent as marble statues.

Except for the creature stalking toward her.

"_This_ little scrawny bitch has caused all this-…?" It was only the girl's voice and size that bowed to the illusion of childlike. That face was twisted with more malice than could be amassed by a hundred year old psychotic. "…this…_fucking drama_?" she shrilled.

"Sorry," the whispered word slipped habitually from Bella's lips.

And every last supernatural ear heard it.

The girl threw back her head and she laughed ….with such force the cape hood fell back from Shirley Temple curls, somehow making her even more grotesque. "Oh _that's_ rich! Not only does she let you drink from her like a cow - and we can all smell that she has - but she's housebroken too!"

Heat rose to Bella's cheeks as her gaze dropped like lead. But something instinctual made her jerk it up again. Her attention instantly focused on the door -as every other being's in the room. With the notable exception of the one still giggling with disturbingly child-like hysterics.

"Jane," a smooth serpentine voice slithered through forest of red-capes and gold-leaf furniture, stiffening every last spine with scaly power "Tend to your mannerss with our… guesst," it crooned slick and oily with power.

Jane's laughter instantly silenced.

Bella no longer cared; she knew – somehow beyond a doubt – that she had just heard the voice of death itself, and everything that followed it was surely trivial.

The tall, thin figure that slipped into the room after it moved at a deliberately sedate pace so smoothly it seemed to be levitating, weaving gracefully around any obstacles in its path. Bella didn't have to fight her every instinct to flee, she simply couldn't move in the primal fear that petrified her body like rigor mortis. And she hadn't even seen what lurked beneath the heavy cloak.

As if in answering that idle thought, bony hands capped with long yellowing nails lifted to the hood. And pushed it back with the heavy whisper of velvet on silk.

Bella audibly gasped.

The face behind that voice was the most frightening thing Bella had ever seen: if unconscionable power had face, this would be it. Paper-thin, translucent skin was pulled over gruesome features: a pronounced brow, swept down to red sunken almond eyes and high sharp cheekbones. The thin aquiline nose was somehow unnaturally chiseled and repulsively small for its face like a plastic surgery gone horribly wrong. Utterly white, silk-slick hair fell like spun glass to bony shoulders – accentuating his morbid pallor - and framed thin, pallid lips and a jaw that was almost triangular.

There could be no question: _this_ was Aro.

And he was absolutely terrifying.

He hid behind none of the ephemeral beauty of their kind, but wore the mantle of monstrosity like a crown. Eyes, singly trained on her, he slid toward her like some Tim Burton character that had gotten lost on the cutting room floor because he was too dark and twisted to be permitted out of nightmares.

Those lips peeled back from yellow pointed teeth with a knowing smile as if he could read her thoughts.

Bella's heart stuttered in her chest. Or maybe it had just surrendered completely, right then and there. Oh, she had been so very, _very_ wrong: she wasn't out of her league… she wasn't even in the game.

And in that instant she understood what Edward had tried to tell her in those early years and even shown her in the latter. Vampires were the absolute antithesis to life.

"Welcome, Issabella," he hissed in an accented, sing-song voice that drew heavily on the S's like the snake he was. "So kind of you to join uss."

Bella struggled several times to swallow. At least she had done _one_ thing right in this pitiful– and quickly fleeting – life of hers: there was no way the wolves could take this thing. And no matter how it played, she _never_ wanted Caleb or Pa- …_Jasper_ anywhere near it.

The counterfeit thought in her head was perhaps more shocking than the creature before her.

She blinked in surprise and her gaze snapped up to where Jasper was watching Aro with hard, glittering eyes that defied his wry smile.

"It'll be nice for you an' me to finally get acquainted, Aro," Jasper drawled, mercifully drawing the vampire's gaze. "Heard a lot about you...but I gotta say, you're reputation hardly does y' justice."

Aro's smile shriveled to a tight-lipped grin as he sniffed a laugh. "The taless of your brass and tomfoolery have been similarly understated, Jassper," he hissed, low and dangerous, as those red eyes instantly darkened into something fierce.

Bella nearly crawled up Jasper's arm as she clutched it to her in fear. _What was he doing?_

"You know me… got my own drum section and all," Jasper chuckled, seemingly unperturbed, as he smoothly pulled Bella against his chest and wrapped both arms around her. "I tend to do things my own way," he did nothing to mask the challenging undercurrent of that assertion.

Aro smiled with alarming calm and his eyes slipped down to where Bella was pressing her cheek against Jasper's chest, her hands twisting in his shirt like a frightened child (exactly what she felt like). A shiver went down Bella's spine as his cold gaze washed indifferently over her.

"Jane, darling," Aro murmured out of the side of his mouth.

Bella felt Jasper stiffen and his arms tightened reflexively around her.

Aro looked Bella dead in the eye and enunciated each monotone syllable like a punch, "why don't you remind our guestss why it's sso very _imprudent_ to test my patience?"

Bella's gaze jerked up fearfully to find Jasper's. "Shh… " he whispered, but his reassuring smile couldn't hide the fear in his eyes as he incidentally smoothed her hair back from her cheek. "I'm your mate. It'll be oka-"

Jasper gagged on his words as his face crumpled in agony. His body convulsed violently out of her grasp and he fell to the ground, writhing.

But Bella didn't see Jasper flailing on the floor, she saw Paul.

_Paul_ was curling into a ball of torment, his hands clawing at his own chest as if his heart was chewing its way out of his chest. His head whipped back and forth, his bared gritted teeth caging his hoarse cries.

"NO!" She screamed, throwing herself upon his seizing body. "Oh, God, honey…" she wailed as his flailing body threw her painfully off him to the floor.

A hoarse yell of torture finally ripped its way out of his chest as he curled into a stiff fetal position. Surely he was dying: Paul, no _Jasper_… Before her eyes his form shifted between the two until they were inseparable. Her mate was _dying_…her friend, her lover… Bella's fevered mind reeled.

"STOP IT!" She yelled, even while she pulled herself across the floor toward his quivering body. She reached out her hands to her lover. She had to touch him… she had to take away his pain, he was dying, surely he was dying. "_Take me instead_!" she shrilled hoarsely as her hands shot out to press against his cool, hard chest.

_Nothing_.

Bella sucked in a ragged breath, realizing her body was convulsing with sobs. Why couldn't she take Jasper's pain? What was happening?

As she pulled his blond head into her lap – his face contorted in sheer agony – her watery gaze raked up to skewer a room that was eerily silent. And fascinated.

Finally Bella's traumatized mind put together pieces of the Volturi history Jasper had told her on the plane. Jane was doing this! Her gaze ripped to skewer the girl who was intently staring at Jasper, a small gloating smile of revolting pleasure pulling at bow lips.

"STOP IT!" she screamed, grasping Jasper's moaning face closer to her chest. "I'll do whatever you want! STOP THIS!"

"Alright, enough Jane…" she heard a smooth voice admonish over a chuckle.

As if an invisible hand had abruptly loosed its hold, Jasper gasped and arched in her arms. Bella smoothed his hair back from his alabaster cheek as his face relaxed and his breath puffed laboriously though pursed lips. His body incrementally relaxed as her trembling hands took frantic inventory.

"Hush, darlin'," Jasper's voice rasped like late-stage emphysema, his eyes still squeezed closed in pain. "I'm fine, sweetheart."

Bella's bleary gaze darted to where Aro was watching them, hands folded urbanely before him, his head cocked curiously. Her eyes narrowed in hatred, as she clasped Jasper closer.

Aro smiled disarmingly – an expression that did nothing to soften that horrific face. "How very interesting," he murmured.

At the sound of his voice, Jasper gently disengaged himself from Bella's grasp and sat up, his head hanging as he panted with residual pain.

Bella pushed up to her feet and stood protectively in front of him. "What do you want, Aro?" she hissed.

Aro's smile morphed into a patronizing grin, and he glanced behind him. "What do you make of it, Marcus?" he crooned, as if she hadn't spoken.

"Fascinating, indeed," a thick Russian accent rolled like storm clouds from the piano.

Bella's attention snapped to the one who spoke. Stretched out languorously on his side on the grand piano, his dark head was propped in his hand. He was watching her with concentration etching an already chiseled face. When their eyes met he smiled a private smile that was unnerving.

Bella dropped her gaze as Jasper stood, staggering at her side. She took his offered hand in tense fingers. The wash adrenaline for her mate was quickly receding, leaving her again high and dry with uncertainty… and fear.

"I have never felt such a potent emotional connection to a mate," Marcus stated with something akin to reverence stretching out underneath his heavily accented words. "It's almost _unbelievable_… so strong. She _adores_ him."

Bella looked up to where Marcus was drawing little absent circles on the shiny black surface before him as he considered her from under his brow. Oddly Bella felt some measure of comfort in his words. _Of course_ she adored her mate… enough to give them whatever they wanted, in fact. Him and their child- wait, Caleb wasn't Jasper's….

The thought of her son set off a million ripples of confusion and her brow furrowed as she glanced again up at the man beside her.

"Shh," he murmured to her, even as his gaze stayed trained on the room before him. His heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders and she melted into his side, all confusion evaporating in his comfort.

"Thrall?" Aro asked as his gaze ran over Bella with an almost clinical interest.

"No. He calms her with thrall," Marcus continued, his accent ambling over the consonants of the words. "But thrall cannot produce _this_. It cannot produce love…just submission."

"Gifts?" Aro continued as if in a private conversation with Marcus over two bugs in their midst. He shifted his weight and his head tipped to the other side as he continued to examine them.

"No, he cannot _create_ emotion, only influence it. This bond of hers is timeless," he murmured.

Aro's lips peeled back from pointed teeth as his gaze again found Jasper. "And does he return her love?" he asked with a pointed sharpening of his words.

Bella felt Jasper tense at her side.

There was a moment of hesitation as Marcus closed his eyes softly as if contemplating. "Yes," he answered simply. They opened again and looked Bella dead in the eye. "But not as deeply," he said slowly. "In fact… in contrast, it's unrequited," his lips curved up in a shrewd smile. "So sad," he clucked his tongue.

Bella's heart jumped up into her throat. _He didn't love her as much as she loved him?_ Tears sprang again to her eyes.

"Our kind cannot truly love," Jasper hastened as his hands soothed over her shoulders and pulled her in front of him possessively. With the other he pulled her hair free and let it fall heavily over a shoulder.

It was a calculated move; he'd been right – the attention of all in the room locked almost comically on the shimmering waves.

Aro blinked. "You know that more of any of us, eh Jasper?" he crooned slyly.

The weighty silence in the room was broken by a burst of Jane's gruesomely girlish giggles. Bella whipped around to where the child clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes spitefully mirthful.

Jane clasped her hands behind her and twisted to and fro."I know something you don't know!" she taunted Bella with a smirk.

Jasper turned toward the girl with hard eyes. "Shut up," he hissed.

Jane's giggles accelerated into pealing laughter. With a glance at Aro, Jane took a frolicking step toward her. "Do you know where we found him, Bella?"

"Aro, enough of this," Jasper complained through gritted teeth as he squeezed her closer.

But Aro, folded his hands demurely in front of him with a tight-lipped smile, obviously enjoying the show.

Jane continued in conspiratorial whisper as if they were the only two in the room. "Balls deep in a red-headed whore," the crass words were shocking spilling from that innocent façade. "Fucking her hard and deep while he gulped her dry," she continued in a childish voice.

Numbness washed down Bella's body until she couldn't even feel her toes. She jerked herself out of Jasper's grasp.

"It's true, I swear it," she quipped with a pert nod of her head. "I watched," she giggled.

_No. Her mate… cheating?_ _That's how he didn't break her – that's why he never gave into that passion? Because he spent it somewhere else?_ Reality and fabrication converged in a gnarled and confusing mess…

With no warning, Bella dropped her face into her palms and she wept with instantly soul-wracking sobs.

In front of a roomful of spellbound vampires.

Jasper tried to slip a comforting arm around her shoulders, and Bella nearly jumped away from him, skewering him with accusing eyes.

"How could you!" she choked as she wiped her nose with her sleeve.

Jasper reached out again and pulled her to his chest, even though she flailed wildly. "I'm so sorry sweetheart," Jasper whispered by her ear as he crushed her struggling form to him. "It's not what it seems, I swear."

And as if he'd peeled back the corner of the infamous curtain – and she assumed he had, in effect, and relaxed his influence - she suddenly saw him as he was. Not her imprint who was afraid to crush her, not her mate who didn't love her as she did, not even her lover who cheated. He was her co-conspirator and merely a player in the hand they were using to construct this delicate house of cards. Bella gasped into his shirt, and pulled away looking up gratefully into his eyes through her tears.

The curtain fell again and she felt all her emotional ties gathered back into the fist of his influence. But it was different this time.

"Y-you cheated," she hiccupped, with only a little less passion.

Jasper nodded forlornly and leaned in to press a tender kiss to her hairline. "I'm so sorry, we'll talk about it later."

Bella sniffled and tried to mute the sobs that bubbled in her chest where her broken heart had not yet mended.

"Sso sad indeed, Marcuss," Bella looked up to see Aro watching them with an overstated pity pursing his lips. "Jane? Why don't you comfort her a little. A little woman to woman – help put her out of her missery."

Like lightening, somehow Jasper had pushed Bella behind him. "Wait just one minute, now-" His voice abruptly gagged into silence as - faster than her eye could follow - his body went flying across the room with a thundering crash.

Bella stumbled forward several steps from the whirlwind movement so close to her. Her terrified gaze locked onto where Jasper was smashed 6 feet up room's stone wall, in a pulverized crater from the impact. Plaster continued to drop from the ceiling and stucco dusted Jasper's face which was pulled in pain as if he were being held up by an invisible hand at his throat.

Bella whipped back around to where Aro had his hand casually splayed toward his victim, his gnarly fingers curling idly back and forth.

"I warned you," Aro admonished over a haughty laugh. Tipping his head as if he were pleased with himself, he slid his hand in a slow arc before him.

Jasper's body mimicked the movement on the wall with a grating noise as he hoarsely cried out as if he were being crushed by the force.

"Aro," a soft, familiar voice spoke hesitantly.

Eyebrows shooting up, Bella turned to see Carlisle step out of anonymity from among those against the wall. His eyes met hers and he furtively nodded in acknowledgement.

"Please…" he continued, deferential and low. "He only protects his mate."

Aro's eyes literally rolled in exasperation, "very well."

With a flourish to his hand Jasper dropped heavily to the ground, cracks shooting out in jagged starbursts on the marble floor where he landed.

"You keep him in line…" Aro unceremoniously turned his back on Jasper's still form and met Carlisle's gaze. "Or **I** shall," he hissed.

With a nod, Carlisle hastened to where Jasper lay. His head was lolling to the side his body utterly still.

Shaking her head with the sudden onset of anxiety – and clarity - Bella realized his influence was completely broken. Pulling her shoulders to her ears, she gulped, trying to tamp down her rising terror. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she pictured Jasper in her mind- pointedly thinking of nothing or anyone else. She remembered the way he was the only one kind to her when Edward had kidnapped her in madness. The way he had protected her, stood up for her. She remembered how he seemed to be the only one of the Cullen's who had ever genuinely seemed to care about others…

"Jane, dear," Aro's voice blithely ascended in delight, interrupting Bella's frantic meditation. Her eyes snapped back to his red gaze. She realized Aro _liked_ this game – _relished_ it.

Bella twisted her hands nervously in her blouse as her eyes darted over to where Jane was glaring daggers at her: the child's mouth set in a straight line, her brow furrowed.

_Was it true? Did her powers not work on her? Perhaps there was some hope after all?_

"Jane!" A harsh admonishment made her jump and she whipped back around.

Bella's wide eyes turned to where Aro was looking back and forth between them.

Then Aro laughed – a harsh and fallow sound. Clasping his hands before him, he let his head fall back with chortles that made his hair jump and shimmy.

"Excellent!" he smothered his glee into oily chuckles.

Tentatively hopeful, Bella turned back to Carlisle, whose honey eyes were watching her closely. He nodded to her subtly.

"Come, child," Aro's voice descended to a softer, but compelling register.

Bella turned to see one of those withered hands stretched out to her. "Let me see you," he murmured with velvet compulsion that tugged at her like the now-familiar thrall. Biting her lip and desperately trying to keep her wits to herself, she took a nervous step forward.

Bella gasped as a female vampire appeared before her and, instantly yanked her into a bruising iron grip.

"Ahh, Renata," Aro sighed with annoyance and veiled satisfaction. "Enough. You'll break her."

With a glance at her master, she slipped around behind Bella, moving that granite grip to Bella's shoulders.

"Forgive her, she's my perssonal guard," Aro crooned.

It was Aro who approached _her_ now, and that was a far more terrifying thing. Bella found herself struggling with that vise-like grip in a frantic bid to back away. But as if a spider were slowly wrapping silken threads around every inch of her body... it was getting harder and harder to move.

"Bella!" She heard Jasper's voice call out, immediately silenced by a terse hushing from Carlisle.

She turned automatically, feeling the telltale wash of calm - and the counterfeit pull of her bond to him -but couldn't see past the tall shoulder of her guard.

A bony hand slipping over her arm made her whip back with gasp. With a cry, she tried to pull back from that sickening touch, her eyes going round as saucers as she looked up into the malevolent face towering over her. Aro's lips peeled back in a leer and she froze like a mouse trapped in the feral gaze of death. Aro's thrall was so much more powerful than the others.

Aro's other hand slipped around hers as his eyes fluttered closed and Bella shuddered as chill bumps burst over every inch of skin.

"Mmm," he grunted, a disgustingly prurient sound. His pale tongue darted out to lick over his papery thin lips as his hands sensuously ran up and down her arm. "Ssilensse…" he sighed.

"Edward was right," he wheezed, as he lifted her fingers up to his quivering lips. Eyes still closed, he pressed them, moist and clammy, to her knuckles for an entire breath and Bella fought the urge to wretch.

Bella's head hit the hard chest behind her as his other hand snaked its way up over her shoulder to stroke her cheek. Aro groaned deep in his throat as his red eyes opened, rolling with hunger. They lazily spilled over every inch of Bella's face, winding her hopelessly tighter in that debilitating thrall. Her heart was the only thing that could move and it sprinted like a racehorse.

"Enough, Aro," Jasper's voice was very near. Bella desperately tried to turn to it, but she couldn't so much as blink.

"However do you stand it, Jasper?" Aro breathed as he turned into her palm and nuzzled it with his pointed nose. His tongue flicked out over her thumb and he gasped in carnal pleasure.

Bella's whimper got caught in her throat.

Aro pressed his lips into her palm for a moment. His pale repulsive tongue then darted out to lick a lazy line to the wound at her wrist and Bella's breath rasped shallow and frantic through her nose.

"She's so sweet," he moaned and his lips captured her arm, covering the entire mark and most of her wrist with his cold, suckling mouth. He massaged lustily over her skin with his pulling lips, his tongue tracing the burning wound as his breath quickened.

"Aro! Stop!" Jasper called out and Bella heard the sound of struggle.

Aro's other hand wrapped around Bella's back and the guard released her into his embrace. Bella struggled desperately with everything she had under the oppressive thrall as she was pulled against his hardened body.

The velvet cloak smelled musty, and that mouth was pulling so greedily at her skin that it hurt. Bella's eyes rolled in her head in horror – this could _not_ be happening like this... it was so very close to the way Edward had nearly taken her life.

Something in Bella snapped. No, she wouldn't let this happen again.

"I won't help you if you do this," she gasped, releasing her last measure of breath as she started to sink below the surface of consciousness.

Aro's lips stilled.

For almost a minute, he seemed to weigh matters in his head while holding her in both his granite grip and thrall. Then, his mouth curved into a smile against her skin. He pulled his lips away from her wrist with a smack and carefully lowered her feet to the ground.

Like a skin diver resurfacing, Bella gasped in a lungful of breath as the suffocating thrall receded. Bella desperately scrabbled back, her hand still caught in Aro's grasp. Her gaze frantically found where Jasper was being restrained by several Volturi.

"Let him go," Aro quipped flippantly with a wave of his hand.

Jasper gruffly shook off the retreating hands and took a step toward them and Aro held out a cunning smile and Bella's hand like an offering. In a blink, Jasper was beside her, taking it gently into his own.

Aro turned and paced away, his hands clasped behind his back face tipped thoughtfully to the ceiling. Jasper pulled Bella's shaking body into his embrace, as she struggled to rein in her racing heart. She stilled in shock when Jasper brought his own lips to cover the wound, laving it with a cleansing tongue that soothed the burn from Aro's venom.

"He didn't bite," Jasper breathed relief over her skin as he pulled her head into his shoulder. Bella leaned limply into him, as she struggled to right herself in the sense of violent vertigo.

"See that a meal is prepared for me. NOW!" Aro barked, making Bell a jump and her ragged heart sprint again. "I want a girl of the same complexion and build as this one! " Aro waved his hand toward Bella.

Several Volturi nearly fell over themselves to scurry out of the room.

"You must forgive my transgression, child," Aro mused, his voice returning to its measured control. Bella looked up to see him glare at Jasper. "_Your mate_ needed to be taught a lesson, and using my abilities makes me… hungry," his eyes darted back to hers, a glimmer of suck-up apology in them.

_Now_ she could see the desperation Jasper had spoken about.

And so could Jasper.

"So, it's true," Jasper fell back to only slightly less audacious bravado. "She's another Morgath. And I'm thinking you could use one of those right about now."

"Indeed," Aro's lips peeled back in a frown of grudging concession. "So I want her Turned…. **right here, right now**."

Bella gasped.

"Now, we'll be needin a little time to get things in order first," Jasper began calmly.

"Nonsense," Aro dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Do it **now**… or _I will_."

Bella's mind reeled, she wasn't ready for this. She'd never be ready for this. Her mate, her child, her family – faces and feelings flashed mirage-like through her heart and mind. Reality and influenced fabrication made it so she could barely think straight. But she _couldn't_ go like this…she wouldn't.

"_No_," the word ripped its way free in a whisper.

And it felt like every gaze in the room had snapped to her in surprise. Because... they had.

Bella straightened at Jasper's side and pushed subtly away from him, just enough to loosen his emotional influence so she could think straight. "I'll help you. I'll be Turned," as she spoke either a jumpstarted mind or a relaxing of Jasper's influence made her increasingly confident by the word. "I'll join the Volturi for the rest of my days – Jasper told me what powers you think I have," she paused with emphasis and met Aro's gaze head on "They're yours."

Aro's brow lifted in encouragement.

"But I need the guarantee of my father's safety," Bella stated resolutely and then paused. "_And_ more time…a month," she added quietly.

Aro chuckled and then pursed his lips with a patronizing consideration. "And why might that be…? Why delay your eternity?"

Bella paused, her mind going a million miles a minute over the last few days. _What an idiot,_ she hadn't thought past asking for more time... Instantly she shed her self-criticism for strategy. What was the strongest card she held in her hand? What did _she_ have that none of them could understand and explain away. Ahh... that was easy. _Love_.

Suddenly, she knew just how to use that 'unsavory little detail' she had learned about Jasper.

"Because _forgiveness_ takes time," she stated softly with a determined lift to her chin, turning to look up into Jasper's surprised eyes.

"I must forgive my mate for what he's done or I'll be frozen for eternity in bitterness. And, if I'm not mistaken, it's only a human heart that can forgive," she whispered. Jasper blinked several times and brought a hesitant hand up to stroke down her cheek.

"Sickening," Aro snorted making them both whip around to see him pacing again. With an exasperated huff, he turned on them with a scowl. "I agree to your father's safety… and two weekss, no more," he bit out.

Jasper wrapped his arm around Bella's waist and pulled her to his side with a covert squeeze of triumph.

Aro's nostrils flared. "You will be back before the full moon…**AND**," he paused as his lips lifted in a sly smile. "For these favorss, **I** get to turn her…" he paused as his smile morphed into a grin. "..._privately_."

Jasper stiffened and started to object but Bella interrupted him curtly. "Deal."

Aro met her determined gaze, pleased. "And that caveat right there makes it well worth my patience, child," he crooned suggestively.

Bella's gaze fell to her feet.

"Renata, iss my meal ready?" Aro called.

While Bella listened to the retreating swish of robes, she focused on breathing as the sickening wash of adrenaline ebbed.

Suddenly Jasper stiffened at her side. "Shit," he spat in a whisper.

Bella looked up with worried eyes.

"Steady now," he breathed out of the side of his mouth as he turned back to the emptying room.

Bella followed his gaze. Marcus was standing by Aro's side, whispering into his ear – even while Renata had his hands pinned behind his back.

With a nod, Aro turned around with a gloating grin. "So, it seems that you haven't been entirely honest with us, Issabella," he began in a triumphant voice.

Bella's heart fought its way painfully up her throat as adrenaline dropped over her like a curtain of ice.

"And I don't blame you, child. All is fair in love and war, as they ssay," he leered with glittering eyes. "Marcus tells me you're a mother?"

Bella's heart stopped struggling – it stopped beating altogether.

"Iss that true, darling?" Aro pressed.

Jasper squeezed her to him but she shook him off, staggering away.

_Caleb. Oh God, no._

Her every synapse shifted into maternal overdrive. She must chose her words carefully... and she must not lie.

"Yes," she whispered.

When Aro raised his brow in encouragement she continued.

"He lives with his father," she whispered quickly in clipped syllables. "I was young, it was my first time… it was an accident."

"Of course," Aro pursed his lips with an overstated nod of sympathy.

Bella felt like her eyes were bulging out of her head with each arduous thud of her heart.

"Well I guess I won't worry about you going back on your word, eh?" Aro chuckled, looking like a cat in the cream. "Our kind alwayss keeps itss word, as you know. And you have mine. We hardly like to bother ourselves with the details of humanss and their paltry lives so we'll forget all about both your father and thiss child," he smiled broadly, an expression that looked more like a grimace on his skull-like face. "As long as you keep yours, of course," he added darkly.

Without another word he turned and glided toward the door, his guard in his wake.

Bella blinked the burning tears down her cheeks as she swayed on her feet. Jasper's concerned hand steadied her on the small of her back.

"Oh but Issabella?"

Her face whipped back up to where Aro paused in the doorway.

"If you go back on _any_ of your commitmentss… at any time," he said in a deceptively conversational tone.

Bella pressed her lips together to mute her sob.

"I _will_ find him," Aro smiled. "You have my word on that as well."

With that he swept out of a room that spun into darkness.

'

'

Jacob watched as Leah cajoled a smile from her cousin by way of Raven's giggles. She was creating a caricature of Piglet with blueberries and whipped cream on the child's pancake while the girl looked on delightedly from her purchase on Leah's shoulders.

"How's that?" Leah asked with a covert glance at Jacob across the room.

"Yes, yes, Li-li!" Raven squeaked beating her little hands on Leah's shining bob.

Leah didn't give herself enough credit. Actually none of the Pack did – Sam particularly. They saw her as a mere female but she was good at sneaking in on the sidelines and picking up the pieces when no one was looking. She did more work the Pack than any other, and Jacob recognized it, even if others didn't. He knew they saw her as just one of the masses, though actually she was Jacob's unofficial Second. She was strong and smart and insightful and everything he needed in a partner.

And he needed her insight more desperately right now.

Jacob knew the next few days – hell, there was no end in sight – would be delicate and difficult. He could _feel_ Paul slowly withdrawing, neatly severing his ties.

And Jacob had no idea what came next, he just knew - somehow deep in his being – that he had to keep Paul tethered to the Pack. Which was a monumental task in and of itself without Bella. As their wild card and, truthfully, the most dominant of them all, Jacob had precious little sway over him unless he allowed it. It was a fact of life that Jacob had accepted easily – as he accepted so many things – and hadn't seen as a problem. Until now.

But now… now, he was worried.

He could only extrapolate what Paul was really feeling right now from what he knew about imprinting through the Pack mind of Sam's bond. As the only one of them other than the Alpha who could completely mask his thoughts, Jacob had little to go on from Paul himself. He didn't even have his _own_ mating bond to draw from – since Leah and his wolves had yet to establish one (something painful for both of them and the one thing he actually had trouble accepting) – but he had his _own_ feelings for Bella.

Over the years, their connection had changed but immeasurably deepened. They might not spend as much time together as they had when they were younger, but they were still sister and brother in the truest sense of the word: they shared a connection as strong and insoluble as blood. And right now, even with the strength of Alpha gifts and the power of the Pack, Jacob was barely able shore up his own grief.

Leah had talked him through how to handle things and she had given him her usual brilliant advice that took into account Jacob's facilities and the wolves' weakness. So far this morning had been a coup to her credit: he had successfully steered them all to a place overlooking a ephemeral mirage of hope. Wolves needed direction… they _needed_ movement in order to maintain balance. He only hoped this _illusory direction _would be enough. It was crucial for Sam – his official second - the Pack and, most importantly, Paul.

"He's coming," Sam whispered beside where Jacob's forehead had nearly fallen to the coffee mug clasped in his fists.

Taking a deep breath through his nose and pushing all of his worries and concerns below the surface of duty, he turned to the kitchen door expectantly.

But Jacob barely recognized the figure who shuffled through it.

Paul looked like he had just been fished directly out of the spin cycle of a washing machine: his hair was sticking out every which way, his shirt was inside out and wrinkled, and his broad shoulders were caved in as if a fist had socked him in the chest and ripped his heart out with its exit. He balanced Caleb awkwardly on one hip.

Jacob frowned at the way the other arm was bandaged and curled gingerly to his side. Paul hunched over to set his son down on the floor to the stunned silence of the room. To see their lethal Frontline so weak and despondent was shocking.

And frightening.

Jacob felt his heart do an unhappy flip he glanced over at Sam with surprise. But he was worriedly watching his mate's reaction: Emily bit her lip as tears sprang to her eyes and quickly turned away to the counter under the pretense of grabbing a plate.

Leah's pointed gaze found Jacob's and jumpstarted his floundering heart.

"Hey little man," Jacob smiled as he pushed off the bench and squatted down in front of the toddler who had a death grip on his stuffed Tigger. Caleb's gaze swept the silent kitchen before locking on Jacob with those huge soulful eyes that were the spitting image of Bella.

Paul wordlessly strode past them into the kitchen.

"We' got blueberry pancakes for breakfast," Jacob grinned as his hands came up to fumble Caleb's shirt which was buttoned out of order. Paul had obviously tried to tend the child – his hair was wet, parted and combed severely to the side, but sleep still caked his eyes.

And it was ridiculously unusual for Paul. He was an excellent father who had no trouble with bath times, dressing and the like. But today… today, Jacob could only imagine how hard it was to wash this beautiful face with his mother's eyes staring out somberly from under that worried brow.

"Whipped cream, even… and I think I smell some sausages in that stove," he continued as he lifted the small boy into his arms and turned.

Leah had sat down at the table with Raven and Sam was pulling Emily off to the side and into his arms.

Paul turned from the counter with a plastic Disney plate in hand piled haphazardly with breakfast. He crossed to Jacob, switching it awkwardly to his bad arm and reaching out with the other for his son. Jacob ferried Caleb into his father's embrace as his gaze washed assessingly over Paul's gaunt face and sunken eyes.

Wiping his hands on his jeans shorts, Jacob then paced to the counter and piled a plate with food for himself as his head spun. He didn't know what he had expected, but he certainly hadn't expected _this_. Jacob would have preferred Paul's temper or ire. Somehow having him so depressed and vulnerable was just… so much worse.

Gathering himself, he returned to the table. He sat at his usual spot at the head and pulled his coffee in front of him as Paul situated Caleb in his lap and began cutting the pancake with a fork. Celtic music spun into the room and Jacob glanced back to see Sam switch on the iPod while Emily returned to fiddle with the dishes.

"How's that arm doing?" Jacob dove in with feigned casual interest as he picked his coffee up and took a loud slurp.

Paul shrugged but didn't raise his eyes from where he watched his son pick up his fork and take a timid bite.

"Well I guess since I still look like I took a face-plant off a skyscraper, it's only fair," Jacob laughed awkwardly.

Caleb looked up at him with serious assessment as he chewed his bite of blueberries and Jacob wiggled his eyebrows.

Caleb didn't smile.

Sam sat at his right hand and stole a link of sausage from Jacob's plate.

"Jake, it's an improvement actually," he snorted–with a rather uncharacteristic attempt at banter. Sam was usually the serious one.

Jacob socked him in his arm playfully, playing along. "You'd better watch it if you want that sausage to keep coming."

"It's Em's sausage," he gave him a saccharine smile.

Jacob rolled his eyes with huff and threw another link at his Second which was fluently caught in his mouth.

"Rae-Rae, your daddy and uncles are dorks," Leah laughed as she wiped whipped cream off the girl's cheek and licked it off her finger.

The clatter of a plate piled high with the contentious breakfast meat was unceremoniously deposited between them and Jacob looked up to see Emily forcing a smile.

"Leah, Paul, you want me to make you a plate?" she asked, doing her best to play long with this game.

"Sure," Leah grinned.

Paul shook his head absently without looking up. His damaged arm snaked idly across the table to pull the electric bill toward him.

Jacob stopped chewing and glanced at Sam as he turned it over. That man had a razor sharp mind – even bloated with grief. The _details_ he saw…

With a humorless laugh, Paul flipped it back over and brushed it aside.

Jacob had been right in assuming Paul was listening, but wrong that he could ever succeed at pulling one over on that intellect.

"What does it say, Papa?" Caleb asked, looking up at his father – showcasing his similarly unbelievable eye for detail.

Paul sniffed and turned the paper over again, mock-reading it. "It says: 'Uncle Cheese has a big fat mouth,'" he murmured with the slightest glimmer of his old self.

Caleb's gaze darted across the table to appraise Jacob again.

Jacob's eyes sparkled as he opened his mouth as far as it could go.

"Yes he does, Papa," the child agreed somberly.

"Eww…" Leah jeered at Jacob's showcase of his partially chewed mouthful. "Seafood!" she quipped and threw a blueberry in protest at her lover.

Which Jacob facilely caught in said mouth and gulped down with an exaggerated "mmm" that made both children laugh.

Paul pulled his bandaged arm closer and leaned over it, his hollow stare watching his fist which slowly clasped and unclasped on the table.

"Can I try, Auntie-Lee?" Raven piped, picking up a blueberry.

"No," Emily cut in as she set a full plate down in front of her cousin. "Auntie Lee is not using her table manners," she scolded.

Jacob made a big frowny face, even while he surreptitiously eyed the way Paul's entire body was trembling at intervals.

Caleb returned his attention to his pancakes and took an unenthusiastic bite that had the air of feeding only his stomach.

"Paul honey," Emily called softly. "Let me get you something. Want me to pull out that chuck I saved you last night from the fridge? You need to eat."

Paul didn't even look up from where he was hunched over the table, slowly stroking his son's hair which was quickly drying to its usual wispy curls. His hand was shaking like a leaf.

"Papa needs to get furry," Caleb announced matter of factly as he looked up at his auntie like he was answering for his father.

Sam reached out and stole another piece of sausage, more to catch Jacob's gaze. Last night, they had discussed the worrisome fact that he hadn't phased since Thursday. Over the years, every one of them had made a tenuous peace with the beasts that lurked within. Even Paul – as evidenced by the simple fact he had been able to stay human when he had beat the shit out of that guy at Topher's. But he still _uniquely_ had to Phase at least once a day to keep that control. Jacob chalked it up to the dominance of his wolf.

"That sounds like a good idea, Cay," Jacob agreed as the child grabbed up a blueberry in his little fingers. "You guys wanna go for a run after breakfast?" He glanced both at Sam and at Paul's bowed head.

"Nah," Paul murmured quietly, letting his trembling hand fall to Caleb's shoulder as if to mask evidence to the contrary.

"Where's your Esspeepee?" Caleb asked suddenly around the blueberry in his mouth. Paul stiffened and shifted in his seat.

"What honey?" Emily asked, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Caleb swallowed. "Your Esspeepee?" he repeated innocently – and a little louder as it could only have been the volume that caused her to misunderstand.

"Shh, Cay, it's okay," Paul mumbled, rubbing the child's shoulder.

Jacob and Sam exchanged confused glances.

"Papa Wolf needs the Esspeepee," the child pressed.

Exasperated, the child looked to Jacob for assistance. "The Wolf brush?" he clarified, with a look as if he thought Jacob was a complete imbecile. "When Papa needs to get furry, Mommy gets the Esspeepee and…"

Paul sighed audibly. "SPB, Cay." He looked up and met Jacob's gaze with unmistakable warning glittering in his eyes. "Stupid Plastic Brush. Just leave it," he growled even while Jacob's lips twitched.

"Cay, I have a Pwincess Jasmine bwush," Raven jumped in helpfully.

Caleb wrinkled his nose with appropriate macho distaste as he considered his options.

"And you can use _my_ mommy since you mommy left-"

"Shut up!" Caleb screamed suddenly, instantly springing to his feet on his father's lap. "Shut up! My mommy's coming back! She is!"

Raven burst into wails as Caleb continued to yell and Paul collapsed his head in his hand.

After a shocked pause, the other adults jumped into action. Jacob stood and scooped up Caleb in one smooth move as the red faced toddler continued to shriek at his cousin.

"Whoa, little man," Jacob soothed turning him away from the table as Raven's sobs escalated. "Your cousin's just looking out for you," Jacob admonished, deepening his voice to the Alpha register. Before his eyes, the child's face melted into despair. His lip quivered a moment, then Caleb collapsed onto Jacob's chest in sobs.

Eyes wide, he glanced over his shoulder for help and saw Paul bowed over both fists on table. Sam had scooped up Raven in his arms and Emily was frantically trying to soothe her cries.

It was complete and utter chaos.

He desperately sought his partner's gaze.

"Okay rugrats," Leah boomed, pushing away from the table. "I think this calls for Winnie-the-Pooh's Grand Adventure, whattaya think?" She wisely interjected the only foil to a complete toddler meltdown: TV.

Raven's sobs quieted into gulps as she looked up tearily from her father's shoulder. "With Pigwet?"

Leah grinned in triumph. "Yuppers…and Caleb's favorite too… um," she hedged dramatically. "Eeyore?"

Caleb shot up with ithrough his tears and scowled at his Auntie. "Not Eeyore!"

"No?" She pursed her lips as she crossed to Jacob. "Owl?"

Caleb shook his head vigorously, his sobs ebbing into hiccups

She reached her arms out to him. "Oh yeah, that's right…_Kanga_!" she teased.

Caleb scowled at her, even as he leaned into her arms. "No!"

"Rabbit?" Leah asked with melodramatic confusion as she brushed a comforting hand down Jacob's arm.

That girl was the shit, no doubt about it.

"_Tigger_!" Caleb complained with a frown.

"Oh yeah!" Leah smiled. "This guy?" she stooped down to snatch up his stuffed animal from where it had been thrown to the floor by his outburst.

The boy grabbed it to him fervently, his eyes darting down to where his father sat hunched silently at the table.

Jacob quickly stepped in to intersect his gaze. "I dunno, Auntie Lee," he drawled. "These cubs might not _want_ to watch TV … maybe we should wait-"

"We do!" Raven interrupted with a bounce as Sam let her down into Emily's arms.

"We do, Li-li!" Caleb echoed.

"'Sure about that?" Leah goaded.

"Yes!" they squealed in unison.

"Well alrighty then," she jerked her chin over to where Emily was only marginally holding it together. "Playroom?" she asked as she bumped Jacob's shoulder

Emily nodded quickly as Sam smoothed a hand down her back.

The two women headed out of the kitchen, conspicuously headed for the basement "playroom" and not the nearby living room. There were two televisions in the house: one in the living room – the center of most family activity– the other in the large partially finished basement where the Pack could retreat to beers, banter, and any movies rated over G.

As they clomped down the stairs, Leah held it all together with flamboyant commentary about what her favorite character was. Jacob sent up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for his partner.

The kitchen was slowly overtaken again by the whimsical Celtic music that played diligently from the speakers on the counter.

Sam and Jacob stared at each other for a moment, pointedly trying to avoid looking at the dejected figure quivering at the table – they were both way out of their league with this one.

"Sam, why don't you take breakfast downstairs," Jacob offered finally.

An almost comical relief passed over his Second's face as he turned a little too eagerly to gather up the plates.

While he hastened out of the room with dishes balanced precariously on his arms, Jacob crossed to turn off the music. It seemed almost an insulting soundtrack to this scene.

Slowly Jacob stepped over the bench – on the far side of the table, he was no fool – and sat down heavily. His gaze ran over his desolate Pack mate for several minutes. "You gotta hang in there, Paul," he finally whispered.

Only the sound of Paul's hitching breath pockmarked the uncomfortable silence that followed.

"Why?" he asked suddenly into the table. Slowly Paul raised his head to stare at Jacob with vacant eyes.

Jacob gulped, feeling the last vestiges of any hope evaporate like gasoline.

"For Caleb," he answered softly. "For us… " Jacob's eyes darted over Paul's blank face. "For Bella."

Paul coughed a bitter laugh. "She's not coming back, Jake, and you know it," his voice was caustic and bitter, like acid.

Jacob closed his eyes as he drew in a deep breath… searching his instinct, his intuition… _anything_ he had, praying for the right words to answer such despair. His own suffering reached up with a suffocating hand and Jacob realized that it was _this_ he should be showing his Packmate.

The truth.

"Maybe," Jacob choked, opening his eyes again and allowing his own grief to bleed through.

Paul's gaze darted over his expression for several moments before he nodded and let his head fall heavily over his hands.

"But we don't _know_ anything yet, Paul. We gotta do everything we can on the off-chance that she _does_ make it," Jacob whispered. "Maybe Phasing would help with that. The wolf-"

Paul laughed darkly into the table. "My Wolf would tear you to fucking shreds right now, Jake."

Jacob pursed his lips as lupine testosterone spiked. "Actually your Wolf isn't an _idiot_ like you," he bit out fearlessly.

Paul's head jerked up and he skewered him with a shadow of his former viciousness. It was somehow comforting.

Jacob smirked, balancing lupine dominance and empathic nature on the fulcrum of strategy. "_He_ likes me… well, y'know…" he shrugged.

Paul's hard eyes didn't blink.

"_He_ knows I let him get away with fucking hell… bend every rule in the goddamn book… because I respect him," Jacob leaned forward intensely. "But, most of all, he knows that no matter what, I've got his back…..Like I do now."

Before Jacob's eyes, Paul's gaze softened… and dropped like lead to the table. He puffed air miserably out of his cheeks.

Sam slipped silently back in the room then, and Jacob looked up and met his searching eyes.

"So, you gotta Phase, Paul," Jacob continued in a hypnotic murmur, even while holding his Second's gaze. "It'll help with the pain… help you eat, keep you in control…"

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose and sat up, letting his head fall back limply as his other hand idly rubbed his bandaged arm.

"Your arm still sore?" Sam asked as he came around the table.

"Yeah," Paul sighed to the ceiling.

Jacob's brow knit. "It's healing though, right? I mean my shit's taking a long time too…"

Paul's head tipped down to sneer at him. "I didn't break it when I broke your face."

Jacob's nostril's flared as hormones charged through his veins at Paul's challenge.

"It started hurting last night," Sam quickly distracted Jacob by drawing his attention back from Paul's knowing smirk.

It worked. "'You punch something?" Jacob frowned.

Paul shook his head as he looked down at where his other hand was slowly massaging through the bandage. "It's nothin'. I just let Em put this thing on it…'cause…" his lip lifted in a humorless smile.

Jacob nodded absently as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.

"It's burning," Paul murmured to himself, looking down at his arm with a furrowed brow as if talking about it made him suddenly see it for the first time.

With a frown, Paul prodded down his forearm with curious fingers.

"What the fuck?" he murmured as he pulled at the edge of the sticky vet wrap.

Jacob set his mug down as he watched him hastily unwind it.

Paul drew in a harsh breath as he tore the last piece off with a snarling rip.

"Oh my God," he breathed, a frightfully hollow sound.

Blinking Jacob stood, peering over the table at where Paul was frozen, eyes glued to his arm.

What Jacob saw turned his blood to ice.

There, over the ropey caramel disfigurement from his maiming those years ago was a perfect crescent the size as a grown man's jaw raising in a parade of white scars.

_Oh no. Bella_.

The silence was deafening as all three men gaped at the bite mark.

From the stone cold stillness of dread, Paul's body started to violently tremor. He muted a sob with his lips as he collapsed his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent grief.

Similarly shattered, Jacob stumbled back over the bench as his hand came up to claw over a heart that flailed wildly inside his chest. _Bella... Bella was bitten? _He gulped desperately, trying to draw air into constricting lungs.

"We don't know what it means," Sam was speaking quickly, scrabbling to corral the rising tide of shock that threatened to drown them all. "It could be-… it –"

"WHAT!" Paul screamed hoarsely. "WHAT COULD IT BE, SAM!" his head jerked up as tears sprinted heedlessly down his face. His eyes raked across the kitchen.

Sam looked up frantically, trying to capture Jacob's attention.

Paul fisted his hands in his hair as a raw keening bubbled up from deep inside him. "Oh, GOD! B-Bella-" he choked, abruptly standing with enough force that the long heavy bench flew over on its side. "Oh my God." He staggered back, reeling against the wall as his body collapsed against it in inconsolable despair.

"Jake… Jacob," Sam's urgent voice finally beat its way into Jacob's consciousness from where he was frozen – watching his ruthless Packmate sobbing uncontrollably as he slithered down the wall. "Jacob," Sam repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him.

Jacob pushed him roughly away, making Sam stumble into the counter. It was only the sheer willpower that was a byproduct of his duty that allowed him to resurface enough to snap back into the game.

"Paul, Phase," Jacob hissed, his own words surprising him. Suddenly he understood what his intuition already knew, there was no way the _man_ could bear this. His only hope was that his _Wolf_ could.

"**Phase**!" he boomed, putting everything he had into the compulsion.

Paul growled low in response from where he had crumpled to the floor.

"PHASE!" Jacob roughly grabbed the man's shoulder and tore him around to face him. Paul's eyes were bloodshot and rolling in his head.

But with no warning, they focused in a frenzy, skewering Jacob with white-hot fury. Like lightning, Paul stood, throwing his Alpha across the room and into the cabinet with a shattering boom.

His face was berserk, all the tendon's standing out in his neck as he threw his head back and roared in torment. It was a deafening sound that cleaved both the morning and every heart in its purview. Lunging forward he slammed both fists down on the heavy table, cracking it down the middle before throwing half of it across the kitchen with a thunderous crash.

"OUTSIDE!" Jacob yelled to the room, peeling himself up from the broken glass and splintered wood.

Sam was crouched, facing Paul down fearlessly. "The cubs," he hissed, baring his teeth threateningly.

Suddenly Jacob also could hear the fearful wailing muffled by the floorboards. Sam would stand between Satan himself and his family.

Paul seemed to pause in his rampage, his entire body shuddering so violently it blurred.

Taking advantage of his moment's hesitation, Sam pounced, joined immediately by Jacob as they grappled Paul's flailing body. Ferocious snarls were foaming on his lips as he allowed them to wrestle him toward the door.

Breaking though the screen as they all tumbled outside, inhuman growls shredding the tender dawn. Paul hit the ground hard, rolling over once as Jacob pushed himself up into a defensive crouch.

But Paul didn't get up. His body violently vibrated across the ground as if he were being electrocuted. His teeth bared in agony as his head whipped feverishly from side to side. With a hoarse cry, he arched off the dew-frosted grass and his hands dug into the ground as the Wolf clawed its way up from deep within his innards.

Just like the first Phase.

Jacob leaned over and propped himself on his thighs as his breath heaved and he watched the all too familiar torment before him. Sam scrambled out from under the remnants of the door and stood at his side.

"Go back inside, Sam," Jacob gasped. "Call the Pack- quick– keep them from Phasing and have them come protect the house." Jacob straightened as his gaze ran in brief assessment over his uninjured Second.

A tortured bellow drew their attention back to the man violently flailing in the grass – his limbs were twisting sickeningly, his muscles twitching and jerking as the Phase overtook Paul with the unstoppable power of the tide. His guttural groans broke into lupine growls as, in frighteningly slow motion, he transformed. Fur slipped over skin, bones and muscles reformed, until a huge grey wolf lay panting in the churned up earth.

In unison, both Jacob and Sam tensed and crouched defensively as it twisted up onto four paws.

Yellow eyes snapped to its two Pack mates and the creature bared its teeth with a savage snarl. Its foaming muzzle lifted from fierce canines as it took several slinking steps forward.

Sam shifted at his side and Jacob's hand darted out in warning.

There was absolutely no _man_ left in those feral eyes, and truth-be-told Jacob knew it was better that way. Ears back, the beast bowed its head threateningly.

"Paul, I'm sorry," Jacob whispered, as he subtly relaxed his aggressive posture and lowered his gaze.

The creature froze. For a moment it seemed to see Jacob, really see him – realizing how anomalous it was for an Alpha to submit - before its grating growls… melted eerily into a heartrending whine.

"I'm so sorry," Jacob whispered again.

The creature tipped back its muzzle and loosed a lamenting ear-splitting howl into the lightening sky. Then, with another whimper, the animal turned on its heel and loped off into the trees.

Jacob turned to find Sam's shell-shocked gaze peering back at him.

"Do what I asked," he rasped to his Second. "And don't leave until I come back."

"Wh-what are you gonna do?" he whispered hoarsely.

Another desolate howl peeled back the morning and Jacob closed his eyes for a moment in solidarity with the pain.

"Try to keep him alive."

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	9. Anathemas

_Sorry for not hitting you back. I'll get my act together and get you this time. I really appreciate the feedback._

_This chapter takes the emotions down a notch to work through some plot points. __Vocab lesson for today (cause I know you won't look it up if you don't know it and it's such a cool word ;-): __**Anathema**__: 1. a person or thing detested or loathed. 2. a person or thing accursed or consigned to damnation or destruction._ _3 any curse implying divine punishment._

_'_

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

'

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Anathemas<strong>

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><p>'<p>

The light rain barely touched Carlisle as he sprinted through the Volterra evening, flanked by Rosalie and Emmett. When it was dark like this – as long as they moved quickly enough – they could slip through the cobble-stone streets with no human the wiser.

"This is it," Rosalie murmured at his side as they approached the old priory that had been converted into hotel a mere two centuries ago.

The three paused in a shadowy alley, sheltered by the building above as Carlisle switched his medical bag to the other hand and wiped the droplets from his cheeks.

"Room three-oh-four," Emmett needlessly reminded them with a smirk as he pulled the collar of his shirt up against the evening breeze.

Carlisle nodded curtly. "Shall we?"

At a more sedately human pace they slipped back onto the sidewalk and pushed into the ornate lobby, decorated in the style a century prior.

After negotiating with gracious Italian and shameless thrall, they made their way past the reception and up the winding narrow stairs.

"I only have a half an hour," Carlisle reminded them as they trailed down the long dim corridor.

"No worries," Emmett smiled. "Rose an' me have plenty of time to knock some sense into him."

Pausing at the door, Carlisle was struck with the impulse to knock. He had pretended so long to be human that some habits were hard to break even when needless. Instead, he pushed open the door, and the sweet, sultry scent of Bella... tumbled over the saccharine of thrall.

His concerned eyes immediately found the girl, stretched out unconscious on the bed. Jasper's blond head obscured her face as he leaned ominously over her and Carlisle's stomach dove for the floor.

A feral hiss beside him heralded Rosalie's lunge into the room.

Jasper's infamous lightning reflexes evaded her raking strike. Raising his hands in placating surrender he took several more steps back.

Rosalie snarled as she stalked him.

"Now, last I checked, little lady, a little peck on the cheek wasn't against any law," he smiled wryly with that dauntless charm.

Rosalie wasn't amused. "I've seen the way you look at her," she hissed as she pursued him across the room. "… and I've seen that look a little too often, asshole."

Carlisle darted to Bella's side, ignoring the intriguing anomaly of Rosalie concerning herself with anyone other than… herself. Dropping his bag, he knelt and quickly scanned for injury - there was no fresh blood to scent, only the oozing wound at her arm. His preternatural vision found the telltale moist mark of lips pressed on the girl's cheek.

"Rosalie, she's fine," he murmured absently as his alabaster fingers ghosted over the girl's forehead. He didn't need to feel for her pulse, he could hear it: slow and steady… almost drugged.

"I can see it in your eyes, I _know_ what you want," Rosalie was rasping, still doggedly facing Jasper down.

"Rose-" Emmett huffed as he sauntered into the room.

"And let me tell you, if you take it, I'll hunt you down like an animal," she hissed.

Carlisle ignored the drama unfolding behind him as he lifted one of the girl's long-lashed lids. Her pupils were contracted, her eyes rolling in her head.

"Release her, Jasper," Carlisle called out as he lifted the other in confirmation. _Thrall_. He had the child trussed to the gills.

"What?" Jasper's voice cracked in unguarded surprise.

Carlisle straightened and turned to where Jasper's eyes were locked with overstated alarm on the girl stretched out on the bed.

"Release her," he repeated evenly. "You've got her hopelessly hamstrung by thrall."

Jasper blinked, his face losing its practiced nonchalance as his eyes darted, up to meet Carlisle's. "What-… I-…"

Rosalie glared at him, even as Emmett wrapped a calming arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.

Jasper swallowed audibly and shoved a hand through his hair. "I didn't mean to… It- I –" he stammered as his eyes again found Bella's unconscious form.

Carlisle cocked his head at Jasper's patent confusion. _What was going on with this boy_? Truthfully Jasper had always been the most confusing – and distant – of his children. Carlisle had never understood what motivated the man. But as he watched a heartfelt regret pull at his usually meticulously controlled expression, he began to understand just a little bit more about the Cullen clan's infamous enigma.

A charging gasp behind him, made Carlisle whip back around. Bella lunged to a sitting position, panting heavily, her eyes wild and unseeing.

"Hush… it's okay, Bella," he crooned, squatting beside the bed. "You're back in the hotel room in Volterra."

Bella's huge dark eyes panned the room for several frantic seconds before they locked on where Carlisle was keeping his body language carefully non-threatening. He had had several lifetimes to develop his bedside manner after all.

Her mouth was opening and closing soundlessly as the struggle to comprehend all that had happened paraded behind her bottomless eyes. Carlisle's mouth curved in a sentimental smile. She really was a lovely child: so artless and sincere.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

Bella nodded distractedly as her wide-eyed gaze locked on the others in the room.

"Hey, Bella," Emmett smiled, lifting a casual hand from around Rosalie's shoulder and flopping it back down. "Long time no see."

Rosalie shifted beside him as she stared at the girl with an uncomfortable expression that seemed somehow to soften her usual hard-edges. Carlisle realized in that instant that Rosalie might somehow feel an affinity for the girl after the abuse she'd endured at the hands of one of their own. Rosalie's similar barbarism had been indelibly frozen in her immortality.

Bella gulped as she sat up a bit more on the bed. Pushing the hopelessly tangled mess of hair back from her face, her gaze fell to her lap. With a trembling hand, the girl pulled around a lock of waist length hair and twisted it around her finger as her breath hitched erratically over the silence of the room.

Realizing he - like the others - was just staring, Carlisle cleared his throat and stood. Bella flinched and scrabbled back against the headboard. His brow furrowed at her distrust, he was used to humans being comfortable around him. It was like a slap in the face to be treated like the monster he sometimes forgot that he was.

He sat cautiously down on the edge of the bed. "You did very well, Bella," he soothed forcing his lips into a serene smile.

Bella cleared her throat. "H-how long was I out?" she asked in a hoarse voice – as if she had been screaming for hours.

Carlisle licked his lips. "Just about half an hour. The shock-" he glanced up at where Jasper was leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest, all pretenses of composure lost. Blinking, he caught Carlisle's gaze.

"Your mind needed time to heal from the shock," Carlisle finished carefully – pointedly holding Jasper's disconcerted gaze.

Bella nodded, sniffling as she wiped her nose with the back of a hand and her body caved in on itself. "So will he –" she quavered to her lap, twisting the lock of hair so tightly around her finger that the tip blushed.

"Will… Aro-" her lip trembled and she swallowed her words pitifully before she cleared her throat and tried one more time. "_Will_ Aro keep his word?" she rasped.

Her worry and devotion to her mate and child was heart-rending. Humans burned so bright and hot in the world like candles... until snuffed out by the callous breath of death.

"Yes," Carlisle nodded once, folding his hands in his lap. "Yes he will, Bella. As long as you keep yours," he whispered quietly – trying to soften such a fate into reassurance.

But failing miserably.

"It must seem odd that those such as ourselves give so much credence to honor. You see, we live so much in the black and white that it's only natural, nothing more," Carlisle attempted a smile. "Aro has no interest in the affairs of humans. He will not search for your child - or mate – as long as you give him what he wants."

Bella's eyes darted up to search his as if looking for any lies. What she saw there must have been reassuring, because she nodded with just the slightest relaxing of her shoulders. Her gaze fell back to her nervous hands in her lap.

Carlisle watched her sniffle back her sorrow. He wished he had some kind word to offer her; something to appease the sentence that bowed those delicate shoulders. Giving up, he glanced around the room helplessly.

"Yeah, sounds like you totally rocked it, Bella," Emmett drawled, meeting Carlisle's gaze knowingly as he plopped down on the loveseat across the room and pulled Rosalie down beside him. "Wished I coulda seen it."

Bella looked up and he grinned sunnily.

"You weren't there?" she asked.

"Nope," Emmett's grin tilted into a sporty smirk. "Not good enough. Rose an' I are just your regular _garden-variety_ vamps," he snorted dismissively. "Just Aro's 'inner sanctum' got to watch the initiation of his newest prize."

Bella blinked as her gaze panned the room. "How many _are_ there?" she gasped.

Her direction surprised Carlisle and he let his hand fall to her foot in what was intended to be comforting touch.

Bella flinched and he removed his hand. "There are about 42 to the Volturi Clan, Bella," he said quietly. "Including the six of us for the time being."

"Like they care whether _we_ stay or go," Rosalie spat.

Carlisle looked up and met Rosalie's bitter gaze. "That he lets you leave in and of itself is your gift Rose. You can be our eyes and ears on the outside."

"_Thirty-six_?" Bella's hollow voice was sucked in with a breath as tears sprang to her widened eyes. "How-… h-how…" Without another word, Bella's head fell to her hands and she burst into sobs.

Carlisle glanced up helplessly to where Jasper's brow had crumpled. Like lightning he was kneeling by the bed, his hand reaching out to pull Bella's trembling fingers from her face.

"No! Stop that!" she suddenly gulped looking up sharply. "No more of that!"

They all tasted it as Jasper withdrew his influence. Bella yanked her hands from his to twist again in her lap.

Carlisle's gaze ran over Jasper's expression as he watched the Bella's pitiful attempts to muster courage. He was so focused on the girl that he didn't hear Carlisle's pointed clearing throat.

"Jasper, I don't have long," he murmured, drawing the other's attention. "He holds Esme. Aro has given me only half an hour to tend to Bella."

Jasper nodded and scooted onto the bed, drawing the girl smoothly to his side. Bella tried to shy away from his embrace as she desperately gulped her tears under control.

"Get up!" Rosalie's hiss heralded her spring from the couch as she stalked toward him.

Jasper scowled and bared teeth.

"Get her brush, Jazz," she bit out as she squared her shoulders, trying – without success - to make such a command sound threatening.

With a quick glance of amusement to Carlisle, Jasper obliged and pushed off the bed.

Bella's tears had been momentarily forgotten in watching them and she blinked up at Rosalie in bewilderment.

"You look like shit," Rosalie smirked as she tersely pushed onto the bed beside the girl. She blithely caught the brush that was tossed by Jasper in the bathroom doorway. "Scoot over."

Glancing at Carlisle with her surprise, Bella wiped at her tears impatiently.

Carlisle intersected Bella's gaze from where she was trying to get her bearings in such at such a shocking development as Rosalie being kind. "May I?"

Bella nodded and Carlisle scooted closer as Rosalie picked up a handful of the girl's long locks. "I'm fine," she hiccupped to both of them, rounding her shoulders uncomfortably.

Carlisle nodded absently. "Of course, I just want to check your arm," he explained as he gently pulled her hand from her lap.

"So, you have a child," Rosalie began softly, her charity peeling back to reveal her typical selfishness as she drew the bristles through the ends of the fistful hair.

Carlisle looked up and caught Jasper's knowing eye-roll from where he leaned against the wall.

"Y-Yes.. a son," Bella whispered as she closed her eyes against the tears that instantly sprinted over her cheeks.

"We probably shouldn't talk about him, in case any of us touch Aro," Jasper bit out as he shook his head meaningfully at Rosalie.

Carlisle nodded with understanding. If Aro wanted to find the boy, he _would_ - they're talking about it wouldn't make any difference - but it obviously caused Bella deep grief. He could see it in the empath's eyes.

Carlisle's fingers ran over her warm skin of her hand as he turned her forearm over. Jasper's bite had been expertly executed: a perfect crescent positioned over the delectable blue veins that ran so close to the surface. Deep bruising – in the shape and configuration of Jasper's grip – framed the wound; he had come dangerously close to losing his control, that much was obvious. But how Jasper had _succeeded_ was an utter mystery to Carlisle. Especially from what he knew of Jasper's passion… and the innate sweetness of the child's blood.

He looked up and met Jasper's gaze with undisguised awe.

Jasper shifted against the wall and his lips curved in a deceptively casual grin. "It was for show," he drawled.

"You did well," Carlisle nodded sincerely as he returned his attention to the oozing, angry mark on the girl's arm.

"Aro's venom has inflamed the tissue," he murmured, reaching behind him and pulling his bag from the floor. "I need to clean it."

"What the hell were you thinkin', Jazz?" Emmett teased from where he was sprawled on the couch with his usual carefree abandon. "Carlisle said you pissed him off so bad he nearly took off your head?"

"Distraction," Jasper crooned as his lips peeled back in a slow smile. "Couldn't afford to let him steer our little tete-a-tete. I had to grab him by the horns and ride 'em hard."

"Sounds like he rode _you_," Emmett barked a laugh.

Jasper was unperturbed. "Better me than Bella," he shrugged.

Carlisle looked up from where he was fishing through his requisite black bag. "You did well," he repeated softly.

Bella licked her lips as she watched Carlisle retrieve antiseptic pads and gauze. "Wha-What _is_ he," she whispered hoarsely.

"No one is certain. We just know he's the First of our kind," Carlisle looked up and met her gaze uncomfortably. Aro was a skeleton in all of their closets that he had wished had just stayed there. The beast's mere existence single-handedly undermined the carefully constructed façade in which he had invested everything.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "He is the father of us all."

Bella's brow pinched as she processed that fact. With a soft sigh, Carlisle pulled out a wipe from its wrapper and carefully cleaned the wound. Bella sucked in a breath at the sting.

"How could you have ever _lived_ with him?" she asked through gritted teeth. "_Why_?" She sounded genuinely bewildered.

And horrified.

Carlisle pursed his lips, as he worked. "He showed you his true self this evening Bella. When he wants to, he can be very… _persuasive_."

"Like any good psychotic," Rosalie laughed derisively as she pulled the brush through Bella's hair behind her. "Want it braided?"

Bella nodded with a soft "thanks."

Strangely enough Rosalie seemed to be succeeding to relax the girl where Carlisle was failing miserably. He didn't miss the subtle way Bella leaned away from him – and into Rosalie – as if drawing strength. It was intriguing.

"So what do you know about this coup?" Jasper cut in from where he was watching them impatiently. Like he was jealous.

_Just what was going on with this boy? _Truthfully he understood the allure of her blood along with the girl's innate attraction – especially to an emapth. She was passionate and real. But Jasper wasn't usually so unbalanced. Or at least never showed his cards so plainly like this.

"What have _you_ found out?" Carlisle countered, returning to matters at hand as he pulled out gauze and wrapped it gently around the girl's arm.

With a huff, Jasper pushed off the wall and crossed to the small table. Pulling out his computer from his bag, he flipped it open. "Well I was doin' some research... cross-referencing feeds, blogs, texts, emails using an algorithm I wrote to bring anything unseemly to the surface," he murmured to himself as he showcased his unique – and _unshared_ - facility with technology. Most of their kind were too old and unchanging to adapt to the modern world. "I focused on the general vicinity of any of the major covens..." Jasper let his words die out at Carlisle's bland raise of one brow.

Jasper chuckled to himself as he pulled out a chair and plopped down. "Anyways, it looks like it's the gypsies," he summarized for them.

Carlisle nodded and patted Bella's arm absently, having finished his work. He stooped to repack his bag and threw the paper wrapping fluently in the little trash bin across the room

"There's reports of animal attacks – lots of em'…" Jasper continued as he watched the screen light up before him. "AND a slight increase – though not enough to notice 'less you're lookin' - of missing persons reports starting in Romania and fanning out across Eastern Europe clear down to North Africa." His fingers flitted over the keyboard. "Seems like there's been something untoward afoot for over a year now and I'm thinkin' he's buildin' himself an army."

"Gypsies?" Bella asked, sitting up a bit more in interest as Rosalie's deft fingers wove her hair into a long plait.

With a sentimental smile at the uncommonly serene expression gracing his infamously ill-tempered but beautiful daughter, Carlisle stood crossing to Jasper and giving the two women space.

"Just my little nickname for 'em, darlin': the Romanian Coven," Jasper looked up. "They got a little history of bad blood with Aro. Seems they're ripe for another try at the throne," he quipped sarcastically.

"Good!" the word burst from Bella's lips with vehemence. "Can I join?"

Carlisle and Jasper exchanged amused looks.

"They're hardly friends, Bella," Carlisle cautioned. "Vladamir is only slightly less of a monster. It's simply an age-old feud over power, no more. Centuries ago Vladamir ruled Europe with a heavy hand – enslaving and torturing the humans he didn't devour and taking what he wanted until Aro decided _he_ wanted it for himself. Aro actually rules with a subtlety that works well in this age. I don't know if Vladamir and Stephan would have the discipline."

Bella's gaze dropped to her lap, and Carlisle turned back to Jasper. "I suspected the same – though had no proof. What you've found gives a little more credence to the rather odd little theory I have been concocting."

Jasper tipped his chair back, balancing it agilely on its back legs and raked his lip thoughtfully with his teeth. "So they're creating an army of newborns? The gypsies have a mind reader and a few other gifteds, but they're hardly competition for Aro's posse. Why are his panties in such a stitch over _that_?" he snorted.

"I believe he _is_ creating an army, Jasper, but not of newborns… "Carlisle paused. "We believe he may be creating an army of _Children_."

Jasper froze in shock and then loosed a long appreciative whistle.

"Children?" Bella questioned as her gaze darted between them. She scooted away from where Rosalie' had tied off the braid and hung her feet over the side of the bed. "He's Turning _human children_?"

"Children of the Moon," Carlisle clarified, turning to the girl as he leaned his hip against Jasper's table. "_Werewolves_, Bella. _True_ werewolves."

Bella's brow dipped. "_Werewolves_?" she frowned.

"You didn't think _we_ were the only boogie men in the closet, did you?" Emmett smirked as he crossed his ankle on his thigh.

The girl's shocked expression told them all that she did indeed.

Carlisle smiled. "'Werewolf' is a misnomer for _your_ wolves – they're technically shapeshifters," Carlisle explained. "True werewolves aren't _born_… they were once humans who were bitten and infected. Like our kind."

"So you think Vladamir and Stephan are makin' a bunch of werewolves to overthrow Aro?" Jasper cut into Bella's confused silence.

"It's what I suspect," he murmured. "Yet this is only a theory cobbled together from intuition and what I've observed: I've seen silver daggers on several of them," he mused, crossing his ankles before him and meeting Jasper's incredulous gaze. " And Aro's all the more cautious on a full moon," Carlisle added. "You heard it slip from his lips yourself."

Jasper stared at Carlisle, that agile mind working overtime behind that cool gaze. "Only a small handful survive the Change, 'zat right?"

"We know precious little about the Children of the Moon – very few still exist after the Purge," Carlisle sighed. "But Vladamir must have found one in the wild."

"Looks like he's maybe been tryin' for the last year," Jasper mused as he glanced idly at his screen. "Could he make himself a pack of 'em so fast?"

"Aro is worried, but not truly desperate… _yet_." Carlisle pursed his lips. "I've heard rumors that the timeline for this coup is in the next couple of years."

"Ah," Jasper leaned back, tipping his chair again. "So he's thinking ahead - padding the odds in his favor now." He rocked back and forth idly for a moment. "So 'you think we can we get in with Vladamir?"

"It will take time; he's notoriously insular." Carlisle folded his hands before him as he glanced at where Emmett had leaned forward in interest, his forearms propped on his thighs. "That's where I thought Rose and Emmett could be useful."

"I don't understand," Bella complained from where she had all but been forgotten on the bed.

Carlisle's chagrinned gaze found where Bella was balanced on the edge of the mattress, her body tense, her face furrowed in confusion.

Rosalie stood and tossed the brush on the bed. "Werewolves are our natural enemies, Bella. And they scare the _shit_ out of Aro," she snorted as she crossed to sit back to Emmett.

Bella's gaze met Jasper's. "Like the Pack?"

Jasper's smile was patronizing. "We're _their_ natural enemies, darlin'. Not the other way around."

At her indignant frown, Carlisle uncrossed his ankles and stood. "Formidable as they are, of course," he appeased.

Jasper's huffed with an eye-roll.

With a covert scowl at his son, he continued. "Some say true werewolves made to counteract our kind - like an antidote. To us - unlike your wolves - as humans they have no scent, no physical trait, no identifying characteristic whatsoever. They smell like a normal man – or perhaps even more tempting. It is said the only way you can tell a man is a Child of the Moon is by their eyes," Carlisle cocked his head. "Again, like us."

"So they're, like, the werewolves in the movies? Full moons, silver bullets…" Bella's brow was furrowed suspiciously, as if she were waiting for the punch-line.

"Similar to those stories, yes," Carlisle nodded with a smile at the girl's disbelief. "They Change at night –uncontrollably, under the moon - and are far more violent and less predictable than even the Quileute shapeshifters."

Bella scowled at his inference.

"And unlike your mangy mutts, their bite is worse than their bark," Emmett snickered, receiving a reproving slap from Rosalie.

"Their bite is lethal to us," Carlisle continued smoothly. "With their natural immunity to any of our powers, they would have no doubt overtaken us along ago. But their Change leaves them hopelessly raging and savage. Centuries ago, Aro systematically hunted them down and destroyed them –so they couldn't grow more organized and pose a real threat. Nearly all were annihilated."

"Yeah, so how's Vladamir controlling fresh Children?" Jasper asserted doubtfully from where he had obviously been furious working through the details.

"I do not know," Carlisle admitted.

"How about P-Paul and the others?" Bella's voice snagged on her mate's name. "Maybe the Pack could communicate with them – get them on our side?"

"No, darlin', they're nothing like your Pack," Jasper shook his head. "I never met me one, but it's said they're mindless when they Change. Plus, the only thing us virals share with your wolves is a natural hate for one another." Jasper hissed with distaste. "You saw that right enough in our dealin's with the Pack."

"What?" Bella pressed, frustration pulling her voice taut.

Carlisle sighed and pulled the other chair out from the table and sat down. "Virals...that's just Jasper's epithet. Our kind and the Children of the Moon are a unique anomaly in the supernatural world. Our two species share the dubious distinction of being the immortal world's only anathemas: cursed into an eternal purgatory between life and death. The rest of them exist more or less as a part of the natural flow of life– _born_ into it; a product of her dreams. "

"The rest?" Bella squeaked.

Emmett guffawed. "Hell yeah, there's a whole laundry list of freaks out there."

Carlisle frowned urbanely. "There are the Fae – the Firstborn (conceived even before humanity) and many others. Names have been lost to time for many of them."

Bella swallowed thickly while her gaze darted over the floor, obviously struggling to keep up.

Jasper set the legs of his chair back down and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you _really_ think Vladimir and Stephan are ballsy enough to try to make themselves an army of moon-crazy werewolves?"

"As I said, it is only a guess," Carlisle hedged.

"Pretty ambitious of 'em if its true," Jasper muttered with burgeoning respect. "Anyone else we can ask about what's goin' on?"

Carlisle sniffed. "The Fae of course will know, but they'll hardly meet with our kind."

"Snobs," Emmett snorted as he slung his arm over the back of the couch behind Rosalie.

"But all of this can be discussed at a later date." Carlisle returned his gaze to where Bella sat stiffly on the bed, her hands clasped on the edge with a white-knuckled grip. "Bella, have you thought about what you want to do?"

She blinked and shifted as all eyes turned to her. "With my _two weeks_?" she bit out bitterly.

Carlisle pressed his lips together dolefully. "It is your choice."

Her eyes narrowed as her face darkened with a sudden intensity that Carlisle had never seen on her face. "_Choice_? What choice!" she coughed a humorless laugh. "You think I'd risk that monster getting within a continent of Caleb _or_ Paul?" she asked incredulously. "I'll be Turned in two weeks," she affirmed resolutely, slapping her palms on thighs. "By Aro,"

Carlisle glanced at where Jasper was watching her with an inscrutable expression.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Jasper whispered. "To say goodbye?" There was a certain hopefulness in his voice that piqued Carlisle's interest. What was he planning with this girl? (Knowing Jasper as he did, the boy _was_ certainly planning something.)

"Even _I'm_ not that selfish, Jasper," Bella hissed.

Jasper blinked once at her tone as Carlisle's gaze darted between them. "What then?" he soothed, drawing the girl's gaze back to him.

Bella let out a long breath and sat back on the bed, pulling her feet up under her and propping her elbows on her knees with surprising poise.

"I want to figure out all I can about this 'coup,'" her voice was calm and measured. "So that when I'm Turned I can help _kill him_."

Jasper sat up a little straighter in his periphery, but Carlisle was too entranced by the way that gaze flashed with passion and determination. She looked him dead in the eye. "So what side are you on?"

"_Yours,_ of course," Carlisle returned instantly, shocked sheer out of his captivation.

"There's no love lost by any of us in this one, Bella," Emmett chuckled jovially from the couch. "Aro's a son of a bitch."

Bella's gaze darted to the two on the couch. Rosalie nodded curtly.

Bella panned the group for a moment as if taking inventory and tossed her braid over her shoulder. With a sigh, she leaned back onto her hands as some of her bravado seemed shimmy over something else.

"So will the Fae talk to a _human_?" she asked tentatively.

Carlisle raised his brow in surprise and looked to Jasper.

"Nah, they just don't give a damn anymore – 'got sick of babbysittin' all of us. The world's incomparable mentors," he spat. "Instead of steppin' up to the plate when the goin' got tough… they just _got goin'_."

"They're supposed to be the _Guardians of the Galaxy_ or something?" Bella ventured, endearingly trying to make sense of it all with storybook logic.

Carlisle smiled benevolently. "Something like that."

"So…is there anyone else?" Bella asked glancing around the room hopefully. "Would _Vladimir_ talk to me?"

"You can't get anywhere near him darlin'," Jasper admonished. "He'd snap you up so fast your head would spin."

"And I'd miss my deadline," she murmured sadly to herself.

"Rose and me can go try to chat him up," Emmett spoke up over a stretch of his arms. "See if we can figure out what's goin' on."

"It'll take more than two weeks to find him," Jasper sighed irritably.

"How about the _old wolf_?" Rosalie interjected, every head turning toward where she sat stiffly at Emmett's side.

"The Gray Mocker?" Jasper rolled his eyes. "He'd as soon kill our kind as look at 'em."

Rosalie glared at him. "Not us, numb-nuts. _Bella_," she hissed.

Emmett patted her shoulder soothingly. "Yeah, he's gotta know if Children of the Moon are getting made. Hey, maybe he's _helping_."

Carlisle stood with an enthusiastic nod. "He would never help one of our kind, Emmett. But Rose, I that _is_ an idea - he hides among humans. He's used to them."

"Who is he?" Bella leaned forward urgently, desperately snatching at any shred of hope at this point.

"Werewolf," Jasper scoffed.

"He is the oldest of the Children of the Moon – the only one we know of that survived the Purge," Carlisle murmured. "He's under the Fae's protection: centuries ago he vowed to stay to himself, so he is left in peace."

"I dunno," Jasper mused with a worried look to Bella. "I think he's still too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" the word burst from her lips along with a hysterical laugh. "What part of _any_ of this isn't _dangerous_!"

Jasper stiffened in his seat and cast a pleading gaze to Carlisle.

But Bella soldiered on. "Where is this Grey-… _whatever_." Bella hopped off the bed, her words floundering into a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"England," Carlisle returned.

"Of course," she sniffed bitterly. "I forgot I'm stuck in a B-rated movie -_An American Werewolf in London_?"

"He's Norwegian originally," Emmett chuckled.

"And he's rumored to live somewhere in Radnorshire," Carlisle added with a small smile.

"_That's_ what I want to do with my two weeks," she crossed her arms over her chest with a decisive lift to her chin to the stunned silence in the room. "Find him and see if he'll help."

Only her huge eyes betrayed her insecurity as they swept the group for approval.

Rosalie must have seen it too. She stood and rubbed her hands on her pants. "I'll go with you-"

"I'll take her Rose," Jasper interrupted over the scrape of his chair as he also stood. "You and Emmett can get on the gypsies."

Bella's gaze darted to where he shoved his hands in his pocket with an almost insecurity that was so unlike the Jasper Carlisle knew.

Pulling her lip into the side of her mouth for a moment, Bella turned back to Rose. "I guess that makes the most sense," she conceded. "Would you do that for me Rosalie? Can you and Emmett go try to talk to the Romanians?"

Rosalie lifted her chin. "'You sure you wanna be left alone with him?" she taunted with a jerk to her chin that made Jasper bristle.

"Well, he hasn't torn me to shreds yet," Bella laughed softly.

Rosalie's nostrils flared as her gaze bored into her brother meaningfully. "That's not what I meant," she hissed – wisely using the vampire register.

With a dark look, Jasper took a menacing step toward her.

Carlisle cleared his throat. "Sadly, I must return," he announced, shattering the tension as he crossed the room to retrieve his bag. "Aro holds Esme as collateral for my timeliness."

"Where's Alice?" Bella asked suddenly.

Carlisle turned to her. "He's no fool, Aro doesn't trust me completely. We're not permitted to see one another - for the time being - so that we do not have the benefit of her gifts."

Bella nodded and looked down as Carlisle's unhurried gaze ran over the girl, restraining the impulse to reach out and stroke an affectionate finger down her cheek. In the blink of his immortal eye she had grown into a self-possessed young woman. He could only guess at how hard all this was for her, but she was weathering it beautifully.

On the outside, at least.

"Take care of yourself, Bella," he murmured.

Bella looked up with those stunning eyes.

"Guess I'll see you in two weeks," she whispered.

"So it seems," Carlisle smiled sadly.

Taking a resetting (and unneeded) breath, he turned to the others. "Jasper, a word?"

Forcing another smile for the girl, Carlisle strode to the door as Jasper wordlessly followed.

Carlisle continued down the hallway as Jasper shut the door behind him and caught up.

"So you must be prudent with any communications," Carlisle began conversationally. "There is a fairly recent addition to the Volturi who shares your gift with technology. I don't think it will come to that, unless Aro suspects that we plot against him, but still…"

Jasper nodded with a purse to his lips. "I already erased any traces of her real life from the web," he informed him.

"Good," Carlisle paused at the head of the stairs and turned to him.

Jasper coolly returned his appraising stare.

"The bite…" Carlisle began quietly. "Did you force yourself on her?"

Shock jerked up Jasper's brow. "No! I didn't even use thrall!" he gasped.

Carlisle nodded once. "You've drunk from her twice now?" he continued evenly. "Once those years ago and then again today."

Jasper shifted, "Yes."

Carlisle switched both his hands to his bag before him. "Does that worry you?"

Jasper's brow dipped as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. "I don't follow."

"That you could develop a taste for her…_only_ her…" Carlisle continued keeping his voice low and steady. "That you bind yourself to her. Does that worry you?"

Jasper's lips quirked in a private smile. "I wouldn't go callin' it a _worry_, no," he drawled coolly.

Carlisle's gaze darted between those challenging opal eyes for a breath before it fell between them. It was a controversial topic at best: it was unknown what drinking from the same human repeatedly would do -as none of them had the willpower to do it – but Carlisle was beginning to suspect. Bella's blood was extraordinarily tempting, but Carlisle suspected that wasn't all of what was going on here.

"Jasper, she's _chosen_ her mate," he breathed to the floor.

"Yes she has," Jasper paused and Carlisle looked up to catch a moment of transparent grief. His expression was quickly rearranged under that unflappable façade. His eyes bored into Carlisle's. "In _this_ life, maybe – but it looks like she's gettin' another."

Carlisle pressed his lips together; it was just as he feared. And there was no hope for it. He suspected that, of all of them, losing human emotion and the spice of passion was particularly difficult for his empath son.

Bella's emotions ran high. She loved deeply.

And he knew his son had been lonely for a long time now.

Drawing an even breath through his nose, Carlisle squared his shoulders with his signature acceptance. "What's your plan?" he sighed on an exhale.

"You know me," Jasper cocked his head with canny look to his eye. "I'm jus' gonna drive 'til I lose the road."

"You think that's wise?" Carlisle countered quietly.

Jasper's lips quirked in a sly smile. "Now, I never said _nothin_' about bein' wise, Carlisle."

'

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_Review if you like._


	10. Sent

_Thanks for the notes. Think I got everyone back._

_Note: "Che" is slang for Everclear which is the highest proof liquor (this known courtesy of google, not experience ;-)_

_'_

_Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>10 - Sent<strong>

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><p>'<p>

Bella had learned that were many, many ways to die.

As her gaze scanned over the text on the glowing monitor of the laptop one more time, she bit her lip against the tears that rose up to choke her. _This_ death seemed somehow more horrible than all of them put together …and more final than the one that remained.

_Her email to Paul._

With a shaking sigh of despair, she leaned back in the leather seat of the private jet hurdling through European skies toward the UK. Such a world – without the grounding and comfort of her mate or her son- was a very easy place to plan leaving.

If there was one thing that could be said of Bella, it was that she loved deeply and profoundly. And the _inverse_ of love was...

Bella shook her head to clear it as she sat up a bit straighter. She couldn't afford to be beguiled by blissful surrender of depression. Not right now, at least.

Not until…. _**Aro was dead**_**.**

She felt like she had been drawn and quartered by that protective, violent, murderous _hate _of that monster. It boiled and ate away at her insides like she had chugged a quart of hydrochloric acid. It was _this_, and only this, that kept her going when all she really wanted to do was lay her head down and die.

Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of throat, Bella turned to scan the well-appointed cabin of the jet.

And then, there was Jasper.

He was perched up on the little wet bar at the bulkhead, his knees pulled up to his chin and his forehead resting against them. His body was utterly still as if controlling himself was using every last resource of his supernatural body. He was an enigma she hadn't had the bandwidth to even consider – and neither did she want to. She just needed his help...

In choreographing her own execution. Executions. All of them.

Taking a deep breath, her eyes darted back to the screen.

"So do I just hit send?" she whispered across the cabin. Jasper, of course, had no trouble hearing her over the hum of the air system and engines.

"Nah," he murmured in response. " 'Have to establish a secure connection."

He had conceded a final communication at her request… as long as it came from his carefully aliased IP address and anonymous account.

Bella nodded absently, somehow unable to tear her eyes from the vile words she had typed that might as well be an inscription on her tombstone.

Jasper was standing before her in a single supernatural heartbeat. It seemed he had steadily given up pretenses of being something other than he was. Maybe it was because Bella was merely two weeks from being just like him.

She couldn't even look at him as she handed the sleek laptop to his outstretched hand. Jasper lithely folded into the chair across from her as she wordlessly flipped the little table up and stowed it at to the side.

Pulling her braid over her shoulder, she fiddled with the band as she watched Jasper's hands fly deftly over the keys. But even their speed couldn't mask the way they quivered like a hopeless addict in need of his drug. Bella had caught his darkened eyes watching her every move with a predatory restlessness that seemed to be getting worse and worse.

"You need to feed," she whispered quietly –merely a statement of numb observation.

"Yeah," Jasper breathed, his hands stilling on the computer for a brief pause. He looked up from under his brow. "We digest human blood faster: we need more, and more often." His gaze fell back to the screen of the laptop balanced on his thigh as his fingers resumed their light, skipping dance. "It makes us hungrier. 'Specially the way I've been doin' it."

Bella sniffed a humorless laugh. "Kind of ironic," she muttered.

"Yeah. Welcome to my world, darlin'," he murmured out of the side of his mouth. He bit out the next words distractedly and punctuated each with a click of a key. "Just… one…big…pathetic …picnic."

His piercing eyes darted up to meet her gaze. "Send?"

Bella closed her eyes and nodded as she tried to swallow the sobs that bucked up the back of her throat.

_Click_.

The sound of the next keystroke echoed in her ear like the last nail in her coffin. Bella collapsed her face in her palms.

And she wept.

For several minutes – or maybe hours, she wasn't sure - she hiccupped and choked herself through hysteria as she desperately tried to tamp down her soul's furious rebellion. Finally she was able to gulp her breath back to flowing in and out of her lungs and coax her heart to pump in some semblance of rhythm. Wiping her snotty face gracelessly with her braid, Bella bit her lip into silence.

"_Bella_," Jasper's voice was tense as if he'd been trying to get her attention for hours. He probably had.

Sniffling wretchedly, Bella looked up through prismatic tears. Jasper was sitting ramrod straight in the chair staring at her with eyes that were worried.

And cavernously dark from hunger.

"Please let me help you with that," he begged shamelessly. "Whatever you feel these last weeks will be echoin' through your eternity."

Bella swallowed as her gaze fell to her lap. Her hand traced idly over her wedding ring and then down over the wrapped and tender wound on her forearm.

"_What eternity?"_ she whispered bitterly to the bandage. As she picked at the tape from the edge of the gauze, she tried to convince herself that it was merely a strategy to keep Jasper in control, not a suicidal fantasy that made her pull it free with a soft rip.

"I'm only living long enough to _see Aro dead,"_ she whispered harshly as she slowly unwound the strip of dressing. "Then I'll find someone … or some_thing_– one of those werewolves, maybe – to finish off the job," she bit out. "Shouldn't be too hard."

She jutted out her chin with defiance and looked up to Jasper's gaze comically frozen to the sight of the red bite mark being revealed. He tore his eyes from her arm with a stricken look

"Go on, drink," she whispered.

Jasper blinked as his gaze darted between her numb eyes. "No, darlin'. I can't hardly put you through that again…"

"It doesn't even matter anymore, Jasper," Bella sniffed a laugh. "Just keep me _human_." She stood shoving her arm out toward him.

"So _Aro_ can Turn me," she amended bitterly.

Jasper's brow furrowed as he sat up a bit more and examined her. "You want to die," he whispered sadly, almost to himself, as his assessing gaze ran over her face.

"I _died_ the day I left him," Bella's eyes briefly fluttered with her swallow. "Every second since I just seem to find a new way…" she hiccupped.

"Aww, darlin'," Jasper murmured as he reached out a hand to where Bella was struggling to blink back scalding tears. Unfolding himself gracefully from the chair, Jasper took a step toward her.

"C'mere, Bella … just relax," he crooned as his emotional thrall billowed over her like warm fresh sheets from the dryer.

This time Bella didn't resist. With a hitching sigh, Bella closed her eyes as she slipped under the honeyed sway that blissfully submerged the jagged agony. She was heart-sick…. and so very tired of _hurting_. At least Jasper's venom would offer a moment of respite from the pain.

He held out petitioning hands and Bella stumbled under the weight of his thrall, and inadvertently toward him.

"Yeah... Just like that…" his murmur was mesmerizing as one hand reached out to skate down her arm and interlace her fingers with a marble touch. He crooned a wordless hum as he lifted her hand up slowly and brought her arm up to his cool lips.

Bella swayed on her feet and squeezed her eyes shut against the sharp pain of his bite.

It never came.

His lips ghosted over the wound as she felt his cool breath catch and unravel against her skin.

His other hand slipped around her wrist and covered the mark. Jasper pressed his lips in a kiss over his own protective fingers.

He turned to gaze at her with a gaze that was boiling with feral hunger. Clearing his throat softly Jasper leaned his cheek over his hand and closed his eyes.

Jasper licked his lips. "Now y'don't really think me so much a monster," he murmured silkily like cream swirling in coffee. "…that I'd take this gift given in such pain, do you?"

His eyes fluttered open and captured her gaze in yawning pupils that excavated his soul.

Bella's breath hitched as she swallowed thickly.

"Oh, Bella," he breathed her name long and low, swallowing her whole. "It doesn't have to be like this y'know." He straightened and pressed her hand to his still heart.

Bella blinked slowly under the swaddling thrall.

"C'mere sweetheart," he murmured as he drew her the step to his chest. Bella's heavy eyelids slipped closed as she sighed into the sweetness of his smell. Jasper smelled so good – like a cross between fresh baked bread and jasmine tea.

Jasper rested his cheek against her head and rode her lethargic deep breaths as his hand slid from between them to join the other encircling her back. His influence slithered slowly along with his embrace, snaking its swathing calm up her body.

It was the first moment that Bella felt any measure of peace over the fiery hellish landscape of the last few days. The thought that this respite was merely a mirage, courtesy of his gifts, slipped like a silk shift from her shoulders, taking all her stress and worries with it.

And Bella released her breath in a slick whooshing sigh. As her mind slipped under the soothing waters of oblivion, her unfettered soul bobbed naturally to the surface.

_Paul_.

In her mind's eye, _his_ arms wrapped around her with both strength and love. His energy hummed through her body – the very musical score of her heartbeat – and smoothed out all the agonized wrinkles, mending the frayed rips in its wake. She settled her cheek against his muscular pec and a gasp of pure bliss escaped from her lips. Moving languidly, like in a watery dream, her arms wound around his narrow hips as she stepped in the last few inches to press herself against her mate's torso.

Only in his arms had she ever felt so held, so safe, so whole. A warm tear seeped from under her lids to linger on her cheek, cooling like an ephemeral kiss.

"Oh, Bella," he whispered over her hair, pulling back just an inch. When she stubbornly followed his movement, pressing her cheek to his chest to preserve that narcotic closeness, large hands spread over her shoulders to pull her back.

Just a bit.

"Since that first time I tasted your sweetness, you've been a part a' me," he whispered by her temple.

His cool breath tickled the shell of her ear. Those comforting, strong hands slid up under her hair to cup her jaw and tip her head up.

"Coursin' through my veins to beat in my chest like some surrogate heartbeat."

Bella's eyes rolled under her closed lids at the confusing words, her head lolling in a flash of vertigo.

"Look at me, darlin'," that whisper was so compelling. It seeped down through her listless muscles and struck her aching bones.

Reluctantly her eyelids trembled open. And she blinked.

_Something wasn't right. _

That face was beguilingly handsome: large, deep set eyes stared back at her, somehow managing to straddle the line between achingly sensitive and sly. Their exquisiteness was off-set by masculine features: accentuated by flat, athletic cheekbones that pooled in a strong jaw. Chin-length blond waves framed a high forehead and softened a crooked mouth.

Well-formed lips stretched in a soft smile.

He was _breathtaking_.

He was _wrong_.

Bella blinked rapidly, her breath catching in her throat.

"Shh…" he soothed hypnotically through lips that bunched in a purse and hollowed his chiseled cheeks.

A viscous warmth rolled over Bella, tangibly trickling down to her toes.

His gaze washed over her face lazily like a Sunday dawn. "It don't have to be like this," he murmured. His eyes darted back to where Bella struggled with heavy lids. "I could-… I could give you what you need, sweetheart." A cool finger slipped up to trace her brow down over her cheekbone until that hand again cradled her jaw.

_So very tenderly._

"I could love you."

Bella struggled to focus from under half-mast lids. Some part of her scrabbled for the proverbial end of some string she couldn't quite remember. It felt like she was trying to claw her way up a cliff of loose gravel.

Cool palms smoothed back over her jaw, long fingers resting at the nape of her neck as her face was tilted upward.

_So very gently._

Bella was entranced by those intense eyes – the pupils so dilated they were black – as he leaned forward over her. "Could you ever love such a soulless creature, Bella?" he mouthed in a barely audible murmur. A pink tongue darted out unconsciously over his trembling lower lip.

"Could you try?" he breathed and the waft of cool sweetness that washed over her face finally coaxed her eyelids closed.

Bella's heart stuttered in her chest, matching the rhythm of her breath - shallow and quick.

His inhale seduced the air from her lungs in a soft gasp as a chill mouth delicately ghosted over hers. It danced lightly, barely rippling the fullness of Bella's lips with their firmness.

And then he kissed her.

His mouth enveloped hers with a voluptuous sensuality, enticing her lips to blossom under his indulgent caress. As she opened to him, his rapturous hum shook her like shiver as strong arms pulled her covetously closer. But his mouth, in flagrant opposition, continued to kiss her luxuriantly deep, sultry and slow.

It was maybe a minute, or maybe more, of the sublimely patient and tender play of his lips upon hers before he broke the kiss with a gasp.

Bella's eyes popped open as he drew back.

_Jasper_?

Like the backdrop of a play had snapped and crashed to the ground, suddenly the dark ropes and cables of the stage were revealed.

Bella drew her hand back and slapped him. Hard.

Jasper had the good graces to snap his head along with the fierce strike so her hand didn't shatter.

Stumbling back, she roughly rubbed the back of her hand over her mouth as she glared at him in open-mouthed shock.

"_**This isn't love!**_" her voice instantly spiked in a shriek.

Jasper's face stayed frozen in place from the impact of her slap, his eyes ruefully closed.

Bella tripped on the large easy chair as she scrabbled back and caught herself on the armrest, gulping frantically. Reality broke over her hard. She was nearly crushed by the flood of pain and despair as it tumbled back over her from the burst of his artificial dam.

"Love doesn't _take_!**"** she yelled breathlessly as she scooted behind the chair, putting it between them. "You're just like _him_!"

Jasper's wince told her that he understood good and well her inference: _Edward_.

"You didn't _lose_ your soul when you were Turned! _You sold it_!" she accused. "To the highest bidder… namely your _greed_!"

Bella's hands gripped the back of the seat fiercely as if it were her fast-fleeting sanity. Her mind was reeling.

She had _kissed_ another man…

"You _are_ a monster!" she shrilled. The hysterical words continued tumble from her lips, spurred on by a blistering rush of horror. The betrayal to her imprint – more importantly, the man she loved - was excruciating.

"Just another _monster_ trying to take piece of me that's not his!" Bella's manic gaze raked the ground as her pulse vaulted to double-time.

"I've sold _every_ piece of me that I could in this thing, but _that_ part isn't even _mine_ to give!" she shrieked. "I gave it to _Paul_!"

Her body was quivering with a desolation that was filling quickly with the rage of utter hopelessness.

"My _mate_!" she screeched. "My _imprint_! I had that man… _inside me_! I had his child… _inside me_!" she wailed. "PAUL is a part of ME! _You_! You've _never_ had anyone inside you that you didn't _take_!"

Jasper looked up then, a complex expression swirled in the shocked echo of his discomfort.

"Forgive me," he whispered as he collapsed heavily against the armrest of the far chair.

Bella blinked, her frenzy marginally deflated by her surprise.

Tugging in an arduous breath, she licked her lips as her gaze darted to the lavatory twenty feet away. She was shattered beyond recognition. She fought to pull enough of the pieces together on the outside to soldier on.

Bella returned to Jasper's unreadable gaze. Clearing her throat, shredded by her shrieks, she continued in a hoarse but quieted voice.

"Did you _really_ think that when my heart stops beating it could stop _loving_ him?" she frowned and released the grip on the chair to put more distance between them. "I'll _never_ stop loving him, Jasper. And _any_ kind of-... kind of _existence_ without him isn't even…"

Her broken words got caught in a thick viscous sob. Bella bowed her head, pressing her fist to her mouth to mute her cry.

Shaking her head vigorously at nothing and everything at the same time, Bella stumbled toward the restroom. She careened into the doorframe, holding herself against it for several seconds while she tried to corral the pulverized pieces of herself into some semblance of control. In her periphery, she caught the gleam of her wedding ring, simple and silver, on her white-knuckled hand on the door.

Straightening, Bella swallowed hard. She glanced up at the luxurious lavatory – bright, sterile and empty and hung her head.

"Jasper, what I _needed_ was a friend," she whispered hoarsely to the floor.

And slammed the door behind her.

'

'

The front door slammed in contrast to Sam's whisper light step across the porch.

With a sigh of irritation, Paul hung his head from where he slumped on the wooden bench under Emily's prized rose trellis. It made for a humiliating effeminate backdrop to be steeping in his own private hell, but it was Bella's favorite spot in the yard.

Therefore he could be nowhere else.

It was _his child_ that had finally brought him home but, now, it was Everclear that kept him here.

Paul tipped the bottle of burning liquid to his lips and chugged down the rest of it, tossing it to the ground with its empty counterparts.

Sam was the one who had thought of broadcasting the image to Paul through Pack-mind, manically hell-bent on running himself to death: Caleb screaming for his 'Papa Woof' on the porch, brandishing a Princess Jasmine brush in his small white-knuckled fist.

And, of course, Jacob had been right in his assertion at Emily's table: the wolf _wasn't_ the idiot that Paul, the man, was.

In his right mind, he would have _never_ left his son…not like that. _Never like that_.

At the sound of its cub's cries, the savage beast that shared his soul had immediately turned on its heel and made his way back through its debilitating grief and over-exertion, crawling on shaking limbs to Sam and Emily's. It had collapsed under the tree in a pitiful whining mess, leaf-strewn pelt torn and bloodied…

And surrendered to the toddler's clumsy care.

With a patience that defied his age and a Princess Jasmine brush, the child stroked through bloody, dirty fur, finally soothing the wolf enough that the _man_ could do nothing but resurface. Paul phased smoothly, drawing the child into his embrace.

Filthy and naked, he'd sobbed into the child's neck, completely unconcerned by the entire Pack looking on.

Paul had held Caleb the rest of the day –under the nurturing concern of the Pack- through showers, staged Pack distractions, and endless cartoons as if the child were the only thing holding Paul in this world.

Which, after all, he was.

But after Caleb had finally fallen asleep – nestled with his cousin in the pelts of the entire Pack, phased in a "puppy pile" in the living room - there was nothing left to do the trick.

Except 151 proof liquor.

As Sam neared, Paul didn't even look up, but just brashly held out his hand. Sam slapped a cool bottle in his palm and the collapsed in the grass with a soft grunt.

A safe distance away.

"Good thing Collin's dad owns a liquor store," Sam attempted light as he leaned back on his hands and studied his Packmate with obvious concern.

Paul didn't bother to answer him, or unscrew the cap for that matter. He just ripped it off with his teeth and spit the metal on the ground. He gulped down a generous mouthful; he had drunk enough to poison an entire football team and it still barely numbed the pain.

Choking on the bitter burn, he lowered the bottle with a shudder and rested his forearms on his thighs.

Crickets syncopated the temperate summer evening, the breeze rustled the dark foliage, and a firefly winked in the grass near his bare feet. The world continued blithely on.

"Look, Paul…" Sam began in a voice that oozed with a grating worry.

"Just-… just _don't_, Sam," Paul hissed as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Against fireflies… against roses… against the lamenting worry in his friend's face.

But even there, there was no peace.

Etched into the back of his lids, were the words of Bella's email Sam had printed out for him, preserved perfectly and emblazoned forever in his cursed memory.

And he could tell she had been terrified when she'd written it.

_Terrified and hopeless._

Before she died.

Carefully crafted for ambiguity and leaving only cryptic reference to Caleb (in case it was intercepted, he supposed) it might as well be his own epitaph:

'

_To: SUley at gmail_

_From: 368$bR5 at hotmail_

_Subject: Your long lost sister_

'

_Since you're the only one who checks his email, I'm sending this to you. Please give it to him and tell everyone I'm so grateful for all they have done, that I love them… and that I'm sorry. _

_-(note below)-_

_Sweetie,_

_I'm not going to insult you with any kind of story or manipulation (telling you I don't love you or something to try to make it easier) because I know that mind of yours too well. As you know mine. _

_So, the truth: I'm never coming back. _

_I've looked Satan in the eyes and seen the death of all I love. It's selfish of me, perhaps, but I could never live with myself if that happened. And it __would__ happen, you'll have to trust me on that. Why else would I give up everything if I didn't __know__ I'd lose it if I didn't? _

_So I've made a pact with the devil himself: sold my soul for my heart. And I don't regret any part of it. _

_Life is never fair – we've both learned this – and I was always worried that mine was too perfect to last. Because it was. __You're__ perfect. An __amazing__ man. I'm so lucky to have had the time I have. _

_If you love me, you'll honor the last favor I ever ask of you: take care of yourself. Take care of what we've made together. Take care of all the people I love. Please. If you ever loved me, you'll do this. _

_Please, please try to forget our love. My last desperate wish in this world is that my death will break the bond that we shared and you can move on. And I want you to move on. I want you to find someone who makes you happy. Someone who can help care for what we made. Please. If you ever loved me, you'll do this._

_I send so, so many blessings for this next stage of your life. I hope and pray that you'll be able to find happiness and peace. But I have faith that you will: there's nothing you can't do if you put that brilliant mind to it. And I know you will, if not for me, but for all that we made together. _

_I wonder if you already hate me for leaving, but by the time this is finished I'll be such a soulless monster that you certainly will. I hope when you think about me, you'll remember what I used to be when were together and not what I became. If you ever loved me…_

_Maybe we'll meet again someday in a better, kinder world. But until then, __be happy__. _

_Love always,_

_Your best friend_

'

Paul's eyes popped open with a gasp. He lifted the bottle frantically to his lips and his gulping swallows syncopated the night.

"Easy there," Sam murmured.

Paul wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and slumped over against his thighs, dangling his new best friend between his knees, and his gaze automatically snapped to his arm.

Idly he traced the semi-circle scar with the glass lip of the bottle; the neat rows of white marks that might as well be her tombstones. Stretching out his hand, his eyes traveled a little higher to his ring finger and the neat tattooed band that was made by a calligraphy of her name: BELLA. (All of the wolves who had mated, and thus married, had a similar tattoo: it was only practical after all.)

And now Bella's life was indelibly inscribed right above her eulogy. _How fucking poetic._

'_If you ever loved me, you'll do this.'_ The words echoed in his brain. He knew her mind too, and he knew she had meant them with all of her heart.

And that just pulverized the last little intact piece of his into dust.

She had died frightened and alone… and worried about _them_. '_If you ever loved me, you'll do this.'_

Well he _had_ loved her. _Did_.

And he _couldn't_.

"I can't, Sam," Paul murmured in a hoarse voice to his arm as he clenched his fist and watched the muscles and tendons animate the white scars.

"Paul…" Sam began.

"No!" Paul's head jerked up to skewer his friend with his determination. "I _can't_. All that stuff she wrote… _I can't fucking do it_."

Sam sat up more, his brow furrowed in concern. "Look, maybe she's okay...we'll _find_ her. It's just a few more hours before I can call the attorneys on the East Coast and-"

Paul barked a derisive laugh. "And _what_?" he sneered. "You're not _stupid_. You know those sons of bitches have the money and shit to cover their tracks. We couldn't even trace that fucking email! She's dead! What does it even fucking matter!"

Sam rubbed his face with his hand.

Paul sighed as he sat up a bit straighter and swallowed thickly. He'd been thinking about this, and he suspected Sam had too.

"Sam…" he began, his voice soft and pleading. He instantly had Sam's attention with that tone.

"I want you and Em to take him," he whispered, looking his friend steadily in the eye.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Paul! Caleb _needs_ his father!" he gasped.

Paul could see it in his eyes, he'd been waiting for this. He shook his head sadly. "He needs a _good_ father," he murmured. "And you're the best."

"_You're_ a good father!" Sam sprang to his feet shoving his hand through his hair.

"Not _without her_," Paul blew a breath from his cheeks. "Look, I know you and your fucking neurotic planning … I _know_ you and Em have already talked about it."

Sam continued to shake his head in denial as he paced.

"You gotta help me figure out _a way to do it right _by Caleb… maybe tell him I'm gonna find her, and then we get in an accid-"

"No!" Sam whipped around. "We're not giving up!"

"I already have," Paul took a punctuating swig from his bottle.

"We gotta give it more time before we start talking this shit, Paul," Sam pleaded. "Even if she is d-" his mouth couldn't even form the word. "Even if we _don't_ find her…over time it could get better. Maybe you'll… maybe it-"

"If it was _Em_, Sam?" Paul interjected into Sam's senseless babbling.

Sam visibly blanched.

Paul sat up and looked him right in the eye. "If. Emily. Was. Dead." Paul emphasized each word like a punch. "What would you do?"

Just at the thought, Sam's face froze, his mouth opening and closing in a soundless gasp.

"I know my little boy will be okay, that's all that matters… he has family here- Charlie, the Pack…" Paul pressed desperately. "Hell you're already as much of a dad to him as I am."

"That's not fucking true and you know it!" Sam bit back indignantly.

"And Rae's like a sister-"

The sound of a sluggish Cadillac motor turning into Sam's long driveway made both wolves freeze.

With a huff of annoyance – that also sounded covertly relieved – Sam turned to Paul with an exaggerated eye roll. "What the fuck is Topher doing here at the _this_ time of night?"

Paul answered with another swig of his bottle and slumped back over onto his thighs.

The big old boat of a car sputtered up the crunching gravel. Bella always teased him that he drove Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang to his good-natured amusement. Only Bella could tease Topher and get away with it. Paul smiled sadly to himself at the image of her coaxing an indulgent chuckle from that tough brute of a man.

The sound of the door opening heralded the large man's grunt as he extricated himself from the roomy bench seat.

"'Evenin' boys," he rumbled in his gravelly voice like he was blowing tar bubbles in his diaphragm.

"Hey Topher," Sam called. "What's up?"

Paul looked up with a acknowledging lift to his chin as the man swaggered toward them over the grass. His big belly swung to and fro, making the multitude of gold chains around his neck clank in syncopation to his lumbering step. Topher surveyed the yard around him as if he owned it as he bobbed his head to nothing in particular.

As he neared them, Sam shoved his hands in his pockets uncomfortably and rolled his shoulders. They were distant cousins - Sam didn't even know how they were related. Topher had only been to Sam's house a handful of times that Paul could remember. And certainly never at 1:00 in the morning.

" 'Snice out here," Topher smiled around his requisite unlit cigar blatantly ignoring Sam's question.

"Yeah," Sam grunted an uneasy assent and cast a questioning gaze to where Paul was swinging the bottle between his thighs.

Topher huffed and puffed up to the two men and clapped Sam on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "Sammy, 'mind if I have a word with your boy?" he jerked his head toward Paul.

Sam blinked in surprise. "Uh… well, it's not really -…"

Topher nodded with exaggerated understanding. "Yeah I know it's late, Cuz. 'Won't be more than a few, then you can get him in his nightie and tuck him in."

Paul snorted in annoyance, sitting up a bit more and downing another guzzle for good measure.

Sam glanced with concern back at his Pack mate. "Look… sorry. It's _really_ not a good time, man. Maybe tomor-"

"Shit Sammy," Topher rolled his eyes. "You' still got one fuckin' big-assed mouth. Didn't yo' mama teach you nothin'? Don't talk back and git inside!" He cuffed Sam good naturedly on the back of the head. But under the veneer of playfulness was a steely command.

Sam glanced helplessly at Paul who took another drink and sloshed it around in his mouth as he shrugged.

With a sigh, Sam turned and walked stiffly back to the house, glancing over his shoulder worriedly.

Both Paul's and Topher's gazes followed him until the front door closed softly behind him.

Paul turned back to Topher expectantly.

Topher's congenial smile faded as he gave Paul the once over.

"So…?" Paul sighed impatiently.

"_Get up_," Topher bit out.

His eyebrows raising at his tone, Paul pressed his lips together to mute his annoyance … or the reflexive curse that rallied against his better judgment. With exacting movements – taking his damn sweet time - he set the bottle on the bench beside him and dusted of his hands on his shorts. He unfolded himself from the bench.

_Slowly_.

And no sooner had he straightened when Topher's fist slammed into his face like a sledgehammer, snapping his head back and throwing him to the grass.

Stunned, Paul shook his head as he pushed up onto all fours.

And was kicked over on his ass again. Ten feet away.

Paul's shock at the sheer force of the assault, instantly incinerated in lupine rage. With a savage growl, Paul had twisted lithely to his feet and into an aggressive crouch.

Only several feet away, Topher's stance was decidedly unconcerned. His cigar idly twitched as he casually cracked his knuckles

With a murderous snarl, Paul lunged, throwing a wicked punch…

…that caught air.

Eyes wide, he had barely whipped his head around in confusion, when seemingly out of thin air Topher lunged and threw him twenty feet. The force of his crash into the huge oak across the lawn knocked the wind out of him with a muffled 'oof.'

Paul hadn't even recovered from the impact when a hand at his throat slammed him back into the rough bark.

And held him there.

For a split second, it seemed that a different sort of creature altogether loomed over him. It was nearly six inches taller than Paul - athletic, long and lithe - with flawless dark skin and features that vaguely echoed Topher's.

But it was the eyes that demanded Paul's attention: almond, luminescent and hauntingly sublime.

So fast that he wondered if he'd imagined it, that mass congealed back into the six-foot, rotund, bear of a man… with his fist at his throat.

Choking and wide-eyed, Paul gasped, "what the hell _are_ you?"

Topher leaned in slowly and a smile peeled back from the white teeth biting his cigar.

"A cousin," he quipped. With a deep chuckle at Paul's expression, he unceremoniously released him.

Paul was so stunned he fell to the grass.

"You oughtta know by now that appearances don't mean shit," Topher called blandly over his shoulder as he ambled back toward the rose trellis.

Paul remained prone in the grass, panting lightly for several moments, trying to get his bearings. Was he really _that_ drunk? _No way._ The pitiful buzz he'd managed was already evaporating. Werewolves were notoriously impervious to the stuff just because of their metabolism. And Paul's was higher than most.

Shaking his head, Paul pushed up off the ground and stood on unsteady feet as if the proverbial rug had just been ripped out from under him.

Because, after all, it had.

His gaze immediately found the man shuffling across the yard back toward the roses.

Paul jogged after him. "What _kind_ of cousin?" he asked incredulously as he caught up with him.

" 'Still on that?" Topher looked up with a roll to his eyes. "Oh wait, that's right," he sneered snidely. "You boyz down here think you got the only fuckin' game in town."

Topher paused and snatched the cigar from his lips between two beefy fingers. "But you're just snot-nosed kids playing in your lil' corner of the geddamn sandbox. You ain't even made it to the playground yet."

Paul shoved his hands in his pockets uneasily.

"Sit down, boy," he commanded in a rumble with a jerk of his chin.

With petulant growl, Paul stalked toward the bench, kicking an empty Everclear bottle out of the way.

And sat down.

He looked up to find Topher collapsing with a melodramatic groan into the bedraggled old easy chair that was his idiosyncratic perch at every job site.

That old Lazy Boy hadn't been _anywhere_ 30 seconds ago. And it certainly couldn't fit in the Cadillac.

Paul shook his head slowly as he leaned back on the bench, draping an arm over the back with feigned cool.

Topher grinned innocently around his cigar as he patted both arm rests and settled back. "Jus' think of me as the Santy Claus of second chances sent to give you one," he announced grandly, and then gave him a conspiratorial wink. "It's what I do. Why d'you think I got all them ragtag muthafuckers workin' for me, huh? Bunch o' bitchy little girls to slap into shape, lemme tell you."

Paul blinked as he quickly ran through C&C Construction's motley cast of characters. He'd always thought Topher had picked up society's dregs for the cost benefit only. Desperation was happy with any wage.

Licking his lips, he met Tohper's shrewd gaze. "I'm somewhat of a _black sheep_ of my kind," his dark lips peeled back from teeth in a smile of private humor. "I still care."

Paul crossed his ankles before him in a pitiful attempt at nonchalant. "Then why didn't you stop me when-?" he challenged.

Topher's laugh made Paul's words die in his throat.

"What? I ain't no fool, boy! I don't get between no Wolf and his prey," Topher chuckled. " 'Specially not when he ain't been suckin' down a bathtub a'_ Che_." He glanced with a snort at the several empty bottles in the grass.

Paul swallowed, remembering that day he almost murdered that asshole at the jobsite. That _human_ asshole. His gaze dropped like lead. "But… I almost _killed_ him…" he whispered to the grass.

"No, you _did_," Topher interjected.

Paul's head jerked up.

"I'm a lil' bit of a handyman on the side," Topher murmured slyly. "I kin fix a few things if I get 'em in time."

Paul slumped forward, rubbing his bruised face with his hands. "_Shit_," he spat vehemently into his palms.

" 'Happens to the best of us," Topher dismissed. "They're just so fuckin' fragile."

Blowing a long resetting breath from his cheeks, Paul looked up, letting his hands drop between his thighs along with all pretenses. "So whattaya want Topher?"

"Well since Sammy's big fuckin' mouth wasn't doin' nothin', I thought I'd come on down and try my fist," he grinned all sassy and sly.

Paul rolled his eyes, but wisely declined to comment. Based on the fact that his jaw was still throbbing alone.

"But, now that we got all them niceties outta the way," Topher leaned back in the chair with an old-man groan. The footrest popped up and he crossed his ankles pertly on it. "I thought we could have us a little chat, Paulie."

Paul's lip lifted from his canines reflexively. "Call me that again and I'll figure out _some_ way to break your fucking face," he snarled.

Topher threw his head back with a hearty laugh – the cigar still managing to hang from his lips. "I always liked you da best, boy. _Shit_."

Paul's sniffed disparagingly at the …compliment. He _guessed_ it was compliment. Shaking his head he slumped again over his thighs, his gaze automatically being drawn to the flagrant white crescent on his arm. The spectacular distraction of his boss-turned-god quickly evaporated like a mirage from his grief.

"Whattaya want to talk about," he murmured glumly to the ground as a shaking finger came up to trace the parade of scars.

"You," Topher paused to the sound of him readjusting in his seat. "_Fucking up_."

Paul looked up with a scowl.

Topher cocked his head with a jaunty raise of his eyebrows.

"_She's dead_," Paul bit out bitterly, looking him dead in the eye.

"She's not _dead_ you muthafuckin' moron." Topher rolled his eyes. "Not yet."

Paul tersely shoved his forearm out as evidence.

Topher's gaze flitted to the scars then he plucked the cigar from his lips with unhurried fingers and turned it around, considering it. "Like I said, you should know that things usually ain't what they seem," he murmured.

It felt like Paul's entire being had imploded with a tangible whoosh of hope. He sprang to his feet.

"WHAT DO YOU KNOW!" he snarled viciously.

Topher glanced up casually from where he considered his cigar. "A lotta stuff," he quipped with unreadable steely eyes.

"TELL ME!" Paul stalked several steps toward where Topher lounged, completely at ease.

With an urbane smack of his lips Topher's gaze returned to his cigar which he brought up to his face the wrong way around. "Sit the fuck down," he growled, and then blew a puff of breath on the end of it. The cigar glowed to orange life.

Blinking rapidly, Paul froze as the man turned the blunt back around and took a drag.

Topher jerked his chin in a repeat of his demand and then blew out a long calm puff of smoke.

Unnerved, Paul backed up the few paces and sat stiffly on the bench again.

"Now, most of its above your pay grade, boy," Topher began, meeting Paul's gaze with a cunning twist to his lips.

Paul sat forward tensely, shedding everything else for rapt attention.

"See I gotta lil' history with this big fuckin' mouth of mine. 'Go blabbin' things I shouldn't at the wrong fuckin' time," he chuckled to himself as he took another drag of his cigar. "And don't be gettin' ideas about me helpin' either. 'Already got my ass in a sling for this much," he stretched that admission up over bitterness.

"BUT most of this shit _you already know_," he blew a billowing lungful of smoke out on the last word. "So I'm not _technically_ breakin' any of them fucking rules. I'm just here to slap y'upside that thick head a lil' to jog your memory."

Paul's brow furrowed as he absently rubbed his arm. His heart was beating like a jackhammer in his chest. _Bella was alive?_

When Topher just cocked his head with a saucy raise to his brow, Paul bared his teeth with a growl. "_Like_…" he snarled impatiently.

Topher leaned his head back on the headrest and considered him.

"Love," he stated simply.

Paul blinked. "Love," he echoed, shoving a hand through his hair as his eyes swept the lawn, his mind desperately searching for traction. His gaze snapped back to the man across from him.

"Love!" he balked. "Love's what's making me so fucking crazy… the girl I love: my mate, my wife...my _imprint_… is gone! She's alone, scared..._bitten_," he turned out his forearm. "… _or worse_ by some cock-sucking bloodsucking corpse!" Paul burst to his feet as anguish tightened in a slow, steady noose. "_And there's nothing I can do_! She's my _imprint_! I can't even _think_ about living-"

"I never thought you was so geddamn selfish, Lahote!" Topher interrupted in a fierce hiss as he sat forward, propping his forearms on the chair. His eyes had gone dark and dangerous. "It's just all about you, isn't it?" he sneered.

Paul froze in his tracks.

"After all the shit you two' been through, you still think you imprinted on that girl for _you_?" his beefy fist slammed against the armrest with a crack. "It was for _her!_ That sweet lil' thing's got dealt a hand that even I'd have folded outta the game with by pissing on the grave of the dealer_!_" he bellowed. " She's been put on a fuckin' road that makes yours an' mine look like a geddamn stroll through the park!" Topher's eyes were flashing, eerily iridescent and reminiscent of the creature Paul had only glimpsed a few minutes earlier.

Paul sat back down on the bench.

Topher's lips curled in derision. "And you're down her playin' POUR ME!_ '_Worried your lil' heart's a-breakin'" he twisted the last words disparagingly and continued in a nasty sissy voice. " '_Can't control my Wolf, nothing left to live for, wasn't good enough_... blah blah blah…" he waved his hand dismissively. With a scowl he sat back and took a deep resetting breath.

Paul clenched his jaw as his eyes briefly fluttered closed at such an assessment. An assessment that was essentially true.

_Fuck_.

Topher took a restorative drag of his cigar and blew it out. "Love… _true_ love… it _knows_." He flicked the ash on his cigar and cast an assessing glance over Paul. "Don't you think you'll _know_ when she dies?... it's gonna be soon, but it ain't happened yet."

"She's gonna die?" Paul cut in frantically.

Topher's eyes skewered Paul down to this soul. "Death ain't death like you think. It's transformation," he hissed. "Love's the only thang that's stays true. Never changes. It's patient, it waits, it accepts, it _knows_." His fierce scowl melted into a sly smile. "But… maybe you don't have it," he goaded around the end the cigar he brought to his lips.

Paul collapsed back against the back of the bench as his mind spun.

'_If you ever loved me, you'll do this.'_

Was his _fear_ what fed his hopelessness? Was it his own damaged self and childhood what had written so surely the end of this story in his head?

It certainly wasn't love. _Love _was what he felt in his heart even now, measuring the beat, sure and true ... even when arrhythmic from pain.

With a gasp, Paul's gaze snapped back to Topher. The man's lips hitched up in a canny smirk.

Paul's lightning mind quickly snapped back into the game from where it had been sidelined by his pining grief. He leaned forward over his thighs with renewed urgency.

"What can you tell me about this fucking 'destiny'?" he urged.

Topher's grin stretched out in a broad smile. "Yeah, atta boy," he crooned. "Well it's tricky shit, the way I see it. But she was built for it, so it's not my call. It's above _my_ paygrade," his gaze darted up deferentially to the sky and then back to sparkle at Paul's confusion. "So we gotta have a lil' faith."

"Faith?" Paul snorted. "I gave up on that shit when I was six and my mom left," he bit out bitterly.

"Yeah, you're right…" Topher wrinkled his nose as he nodded in melodramatic agreement. "You ain't been given nothin' to work with."

When Paul scowled, Topher hit the armrest with both fists again. "Shit, Paulie!"

Paul growled dangerously.

"It's your new nickname," Topher grinned and then went stone cold serious. Stretching out his hand he counted off his rebuttal on his fingers. "You got a sharp mind and a strong back, you gotta fam most would kill for," his eyes darted to Sam and Emily's house. "You gotta hot lil' shorty who's willin' to _lay down her life_ for her man, you got a kid…" Topher's face disintegrated into a sappy smile. "_Shit_ that lil' boy's jus' sweet enough to eat – he's gonna grow into a good one."

Paul rolled his eyes, but squared his shoulders anyways. He was proud of his son. He couldn't _believe_ he had been about to throw it all away. Out of _fear_, not love.

He _was_ a 'fucking moron.'

"AND," Topher captured his attention again. "You're the best muthafuckin' scrapper I' evah seen. Your girl needs da _best_, boy. And she got it."

"Why?" Paul asked tersely, letting the compliment roll off the back of refocusing strategy. "What does she need? What can I give her?"

"Well you don't think all them leeches fawn all over her for her looks, do you?" Topher raised his brow.

Paul growled reflexively.

Topher huffed a smoky breath of annoyance. "We all know your girl's all that, shut the fuck up," he snorted.

"But they're _drawn_ to her," he leaned forward with intensifying interest. "There's _something_ goin' on I tell you. They're _all drawn to her_. And who else would be so acceptin' of 'em that she would let 'em get so close, huh?" Topher's gaze swept the sky thoughtfully for a moment. "I think she's the hope for the healin'." His gaze snapped back to Paul's. "_And_ the hurtin'. Sometimes you gotta use _honey_ to catch them flies. I think she's the one who's gonna get the chance to fix a lil' somefin' in our fucked up world. But that's another story I think you'll be findin' out about real soon."

"_When_?" Paul snapped.

"_Soon_," Topher repeated irritably. He turned his cigar around and blew over the orange embers and the thing snuffed out completely as if it had never even lit.

He looked up at Paul with a wry smile. "And when they call," he pushed himself out of his chair with theatrical groan.

"_And they will."_ He stepped over the foot rest and kicked it closed with a _thunk_ and then turned back to Paul.

His eyes glittered as his voice lowered ominously, _"You gotta be ready for __war__." _

Paul nodded curtly as he felt a wash of familiar, _comforting_ adrenaline burn through his veins. Ahh, _this_ was something he knew something about. Familiar territory at last.

Topher held his gaze for a moment with intensity… and then his eyes darted meaningfully down to the empty bottles strewn in the grass.

Paul squeezed his eyes shut in chagrin.

"You two both been dealt one hell of a muthafuckin' hand, boy," Topher murmured. "Don't go beatin' yourself up _too_ much."

Paul took a deep breath and released it slowly along with all of his regrets. He had a focus now – he'd always had it, he'd just gotten lost for a while: _Love_.

And with it, it seemed, came the chaser that was infinitely more fluent and facile for him: _war_.

"Now I can't hold back daddie Sammy no more," Topher snickered.

Paul's head jerked up as the screen door clattered shut. Sam strode across the porch, his worried gaze pinned to the two on the lawn.

Standing quickly, Paul cast a glance over at Topher. He was standing casually in the grass, looking like he always did: a slobby brute of a man with that unlit cigar hanging from his fat lips. No easy chair to be seen, or even imprints in the grass for that matter.

Topher gave him a ghost of a wink. "Oh, an' you can take the week off," he added a saccharine smile for good measure.

Paul rolled his eyes as Sam hurried tensely toward them.

"See, that wasn't so bad, eh Cuz?" Topher chuckled at Sam's over-worried expression.

"So are you-" Sam began, stuffing his hands in his pockets sheepishly.

"I' better get goin'…" Topher rumbled as if he hadn't spoken. "It's way past Paulie's bed time."

A snarl of annoyance ripped from Paul's lips.

Topher smirked unrepentantly and turned back to Sam, clapping him on the shoulder and leading him toward the car with casual inquiries about Emily and Raven.

Leaving Paul to his thoughts.

And there were many, many thoughts.

As the Cadillac sputtered to life, Paul bent down and picked up bottle after bottle from the grass while his mind whirled a million miles a minute.

Tires crunched on gravel and he heard Sam jog lightly back toward him.

"What was that about?" Sam asked nervously as he neared where Paul was filling one of the empty liquor store bags in the grass with the trash.

Paul glanced up at Sam's anxious expression and shrugged.

"What the hell happened to your face!" Sam gasped, taking a concerned step forward.

"Tripped," Paul smirked.

Sam's pursed his lips as his brow furrowed in confusion but wisely let it drop.

Paul picked up the last half-full bottle of Everclear and straightened, emptying it over the grass in an exaggerated pour. "I don't even care anymore, Sam," he murmured.

He saw Sam's posture deflate.

Paul looked up. "If she has to get Turned, _whatever_," he grimaced all the same at the thought. "I'm gonna find her. We'll figure out something." His gaze panned the yard.

"I can keep Phasing and we can live-" he let his words die with all the possibilities, distasteful as they were. What mattered was _Bella_.

And he finally understood that _whatever_ she needed to do, whatever she needed _him_ to do… _however_ it all ended up…. that their love would stay the same.

"We'll find a way," he amended softly.

Sam shifted uncomfortably beside him and Paul looked up to a quizzical expression that was quickly overtaken by relief.

His packmate nodded in overstated support. "Hopefully it won't come to that," he added.

"Hopefully," Paul agreed. But he knew better.

Putting the last empty in the bag, he headed for the house. He needed to eat, sleep, hug his little boy…

…_be ready_.

For _whatever_ came next in this crazy-assed life of theirs.

Sam fell into step with him in awed silence. "Wh- what did he say to you?" he asked hesitantly.

Paul turned to him with his signature smirk. "That I 'got the week off."

'

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><p><em>'<em>

_Review if you like._


	11. The Grey Mocker

_Thanks for your notes – they make my day. _

_So now that you folks know Bella's not going to let Jasper get away with his unexamined emotional bullshit, I want to reassure you that this has a happy ending for all three of them. I've gotten a few notes about liking where BLW ended but I think this story transforms their relationship into something stronger and better. I always try to leave my characters in a better space._

_Speaking of ending, I _am_ intending to finish this – with the disclaimer that intentions and reality don't always line up. And yes, I am reworking it quite a bit – editing/adding text and structure as I go along and generally having fun. That's why there are still so many typos. ;-)_

'_Guess I'm chatty today. _

'

_Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

'

'

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><p><strong>Chapter 11- The Grey Mocker <strong>

_(remember the poem?)_

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><p>'<p>

A demure knock sounded at the door of Bella's room at the George and Dragon Inn in the small town of Knighton in Whales. Toweling off her hair, she pulled the starched robe tighter around her neck and strode through the quaint period room. She didn't bother checking who it was through the peep hole, she already knew: Jasper.

Since the disastrous debacle on the plane, they had established an uneasy truce that consisted of no eye-contact and only brusque one-word communications only if absolutely needed. Therefore silence had followed them through bustling Heathrow Airport and into the commuter plane ride up north to Birmingham and then stretched across the hours in a luxurious (of course) rented sedan on the of winding country roads.

Finally 32km out from Knighton – where Jasper had tracked their infamous quarry – he'd broken the silence with a run-down of "the plan" in a voice so flat and emotionless, that his jaunty accent disappeared. Bella, chin propped on her hand on the door, stared out the window at the green, green countryside slipping by and listened.

"Ready?" Jasper asked with no preamble, as she pulled open the door.

Bella hung on the doorknob for a moment as she considered him dispassionately.

Hands folded diffidently before him, Jasper returned her stare with steady eyes… which were nearly black with hunger.

"I'm ready," she returned quietly, squaring her shoulders with a counterfeit courage.

With a broken heart struggling to flutter its way through a storm of trauma and terror, the last thing she wanted to do at the moment was chase down her last shred of hope in a dangerous and enigmatic Werewolf. But there was no time to mourn or despair or even rest. Never had time been such a precious commodity.

And Bella was quickly running out of it.

Jasper held out a sleek smart phone in a latex-gloved hand. "I've programmed the location of his shop in Google maps."

He turned it on and slid a finger across the colorful touch screen, showing both her current position and destination in pulsing blue pearls on a satellite map. "I have a car waiting for you downstairs- ask for the keys at the desk. I had it delivered so that it doesn't carry my scent." Jasper had warned her repeatedly that she could neither smell like nor ally herself with his kind in this dangerous game she was about to attempt.

Or the Grey Mocker wouldn't think twice. He'd kill her.

Bella nodded quickly as her hand reached out to pluck the device from his hand.

"You remember what I told you?" he murmured.

Bella looked up from where she was turning the gadget nervously over in her palm. "Yes," she whispered.

Jasper nodded, concern flashing behind the curtain of cool detachment. "I programmed my number into the phone. Call if you run into problems, Bella, and I'll do my best."

_He was worried for her_, she realized. Since he had kissed her – and she had lost it – he could only be described as subdued, dropping all pretenses along with his cocky endearments. Bella almost felt bad for him.

_Almost_.

But even still, this could be the last time she saw him.

"If something goes wrong…" Bella began.

"I will," he murmured soothingly. "But you'll be fine." Jasper spared her from having to repeat her desperate plea that he call Paul and tell him to make a run for it with their son.

Bella tossed her wet hair over her shoulder with a huff at her own hopelessly churning emotions. She didn't have time for this right now, but she also didn't want things to end on this note.

If they were ending.

"Jasper, I… I'm sorry. I didn't –" Bella began

Jasper's gloved finger slipped up to still her lips. "No, I heard every word," he gave her small smile. "Loud an' clear." His finger ghosted up to push back an errant lock of her hair and then caught himself, making a fist and dropping it to his side.

Clearing his throat he continued. "I figure I got me some thinkin' to do," he said pointedly as he snapped off each glove. "And what better way to do a little thinkin'…" A glittering smile peeled back to reveal the razor teeth he hid so well. " … than over a drink."

Like lightning he disappeared from the small cramped hallway, leaving Bella alone. Alone with heartache and fear. Alone with worry and grief.

And alone with the unenviable task of tracking down the last-known Werewolf in the world…

…and convincing him to help her kill the father of all vampires.

'

'

Bella pulled the knit sleeves over the heels of her hands nervously and peered through the dusty old storefront, sniffing a laugh at the shop name and – undoubtedly - double entendre.

"_Old Things: Antiques & Curios_" was painted in flaking gold lettering, curving over the door's window in a font from another century. Below it hung a dog-eared red and white sign that invited: "Come in, we're open!" It was nearly 9:00 pm and a cloud cover hastened the late summer dusk – she hadn't expected to find it open. Jasper had told her that the Grey Mocker had a certain quirky and enigmatic reputation.

As far as Bella could tell, that was par for the course in the supernatural world.

Blowing a steeling breath from her cheeks, she pushed open the heavy door- an antique in and of itself. A little bell jingled merrily and a waft of dank, musty air skirted past her as she pushed her way into the dim shop. Turning, she shut the door behind her with a _thunk_. The bell choked on its peal against the frame and plunged the room into a gloomy silence.

Rubbing her hands on her thighs nervously, Bella scanned her surroundings. It was a small little store, long and thin, but it was crammed full of everything imaginable. Heavy oak tables, mahogany bookshelves, slick lacquer dressers, and velvet-upholstered chairs were all pushed against the walls and piled high themselves with knickknacks. Long glass counter displays stretched back into the room, their dusty smudged glass hiding their contents. In the center of the room, an old garish crystal chandelier hung along with a generous dressing of cobweb from a dreary soot-caked molded ceiling.

Wrinkling her nose at the smell of musty old books and forgotten mothballs, Bella took two steps into the store. Other than the spectacular hodgepodge of trinkets and furniture, it was empty. As it probably should be at 9:00 pm.

"Hello?" she called out as she wandered aimlessly toward the nearest little table. Her fingers brushed absently around the lip of a demitasse cup as she looked over her shoulder for signs of life.

Pursing bemused lips, she turned back to the mélange of curios and tentatively plucked up a Georgian-era porcelain figurine of a dancing woman. She turned it in her hand idly, and then glanced over her shoulder again at the empty room.

Setting it carefully down in its ring of dust, she ran her fingers over the inlaid jewelry box beside it. Pretty little flowers made of iridescent pearl and abalone had been set into the wood. Her brow dipping curiously, she flipped up the little rusting clasp and delicately opened it with both hands. A tinkling melody skittered across the room as if it had been caged for centuries and finally set free. Glancing over her shoulder again, Bella allowed her nerves to be soothed for a moment by the haunting melody that was a perfect score for this strange little shop. Swan Lake crept up her spine in a slightly off-tune tinkle.

Sniffing at herself, she captured the song again with the lid and snapped the clasp shut.

"Can I help y' find somethin' luv?" a velvet British accent scurried through the room, smoothing away the prickling wake of the music box's tune.

Sucking in a breath, Bella whipped around.

A long lanky man of indeterminate age was leaning indolently against one of those glass cases, his elbows propped on the counter behind him. Shaggy dark hair fell to his collar and framed an pale angular face. It was set with a thin lips and light, eerie eyes that she couldn't quite make in the gloom. Dressed all in black, he wore a leather thigh-length jacket over a turtleneck and skinny jeans that cinched down to boots with pointed toes. One foot was propped over the other before him.

"Um… hi, uh…sorry," Bella began with a forehead-slapping eloquence.

With a jaunty raise to his brow, the man cocked his head.

_Wolf like._

"Y-yes. " Bella licked her lips, encouraged. "Yes, actually."

At her graceless floundering, the man's lips stretched slowly into a private smile at her expense.

Taking a quick resetting breath, Bella tried again. "I'm looking for someone," she blurted finally, pulling a lock of hair around to twist in nervous fingers.

"Really?" His smile tilted into a smirk. "Pray tell," he urged as one of his hands flourished theatrically from where it rested on the counter.

"Uh…the.." Bella choked. She felt a hearty mix of terror and fool – it wasn't exactly a name one said with a straight face. "The Gray Mocker?" she whispered uncomfortably.

But the man seemed to have no trouble hearing it at all.

Whatever he was going to say died on parted lips that bloomed instead in a toothy smile. He pushed off the counter with a sniff and shrewd eyes darted over her with renewed interest.

"_That's_ a name I haven't heard in a while," he crooned slyly. "Now what could a sloe-eyed beauty like yourself possibly want with such a scoundrel?" Clasping his hands behind him, he prowled several steps toward her with a feline grace to long limbs.

Bella's hand twisted the hair tighter around her finger and took a step back. "Um…I need h-help," she stammered.

The man sniffed again with a dramatic raised brow. "A damsel in distress, how delightful," he gushed, continuing to stalk her with his soft, clicking footfall.

Bella took another step back and bumped into the table, which clattered with porcelain on glass. Sucking in a quick breath of mortification, she turned quickly, hands outstretched to catch any casualties. Stilling the little figurine with a finger, she turned back to the room.

The man was at the door, peering out the window down the street in both directions. "And - were you to find him, of course –whatever sort of service could such a rogue possibly offer?" He turned his head and smirked, flipping over the sign to closed.

And it was then that she saw his eyes. Really saw them. They were shockingly gray; not the natural shade she had seen in eyes on occasion, or even in colored contacts, but a creamy, light gray like a storm cloud on a summer's day.

The man – indubitably the Gray Mocker, on both accounts – turned completely around with a purse to his lips, waiting for her answer.

Bella shifted her weight as her hesitation evaporated in the latent fury that simmered in her ravaged soul. She had come all this way for this moment, her last and only hope.

Jutting her chin you with determination, Bella expelled the words with heat. "I need to kill a vampire."

"Oh…" The Grey Mocker paused, his brow raising along with one corner of his mouth. "I stand corrected: not a damsel in distress at all, but _a Joan of Arc_," his lips peeled back further into a leer. "How delicious."

Bella swallowed, but squared her shoulders with a frown. She hadn't gone through what she had, left all she loved and made a barter with the devil himself, to be intimidated by a Wolf with an attitude problem.

At her visible steeling, the Were tucked his head and slunk toward her, staring at her with piercing eyes from under his craggy brow. "But…" he stopped not a foot from her and lifted his roman nose with an audible sniff. "Surely such a fragile little thing wouldn't venture into the lair of the Beast on her own," his voice dropped down to a breathy croon as his eyes darted over her face in unhurried assessment.

Bella pressed her lips together and steadily held his stare. "I came alone," she replied smoothly – albeit with a little less confidence than she would have liked.

Slowly he stalked in a crowding semi-circle around her, his eerie eyes skating over every minute detail of each perspective. Bella blinked and shifted her gaze to straight ahead, trying to measure her hitching breath.

"Surely such a delicate damsel – even from far off shores – has heard fable and tale of what can befall little girls in the dark, dark forest…" he whispered breathily.

He stopped on the other of side her, leaning in close and sniffing her hair. Bella kept her eyes trained carefully forward as she went through the mental mantra of what was held in the delicate balance of this game. The torturous agony of being separated from her imprint and child and the murderous hate she had for he who threatened them balanced her, coalescing into calming, solid courage.

"You don't scare me," Bella bit out from clenched teeth.

"And why not?" he breathed by her ear. "You're not afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?" There was undoubtedly a smile in that voice.

He was making fun of her!

Bella snorted at his theatrics and turned to him with irritation, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye.

"I married him," she said evenly, pausing for what seemed to be fashionable drama. "And _my_ Werewolf would eat you for breakfast," she quipped, her lips spreading in a saccharine smile.

His brow shot up in appreciation.

With a deep chuckle he burst away from her with a flourish of both hands as he looked around the room with wide eyes. "Where is he, then?" he asked with exaggerated bravado as he spun back to Bella, both hands still shrugging melodramatically.

Bella licked her lips as her gaze fell to where her hands twisted in her hair. "I left him," she whispered, trying to steady her voice over such agonizing words.

"Well, this story just gets better and better!" the Were laughed in a patronizing tone. "And I think it simply must continue over tea."

Sniffling, Bella looked up and impatiently wiped away the errant tear that had slipped by her guard. She nodded faintly.

The Were studied her silently for a moment and then, with no more than a soft laugh, turned abruptly on his heel and stalked back through the dim shop.

Bella blinked, hesitating.

"Come along, child," his hushed voice slithered over his shoulder as his boots' clicking steps echoed in the silence.

Bella trailed after him timidly, her gaze washing over the piles of looming anonymous furniture. A door creaked open ahead and the Were disappeared through it. Long licking shadows were chased by light across the dusty ramshackle room.

Bella paused in the doorway, and her gaze panned the small, old fashioned kitchen. Like a soundstage for a 1940s TV show, it sat as a perfectly preserved relic of simpler days. Worn mint-green laminate was trimmed by dented stainless steel along counters and rounded tidy metal cabinets hung low over them. A small rectangular kitchen table with four matching chairs was plotted in the middle of scuffed checkerboard linoleum. The Were was standing behind one of those plastic-upholstered chairs, holding it out for her in a parody of chivalry … and watching her carefully.

Licking her lips, Bella crossed hesitantly toward him.

"Oh now, no need to be shy," he drawled in his educated British as his palms patted the smudged chrome.

With a ghost of a scowl at his taunting, Bella crossed the kitchen and sat stiffly in the chair… and then grasped the seat with a gasp of surprise. The casual strength in the arms that picked her clear up off the floor and scooted her in far defied his lanky build.

Bella's gaze snapped up to his sly smirk.

"So how do you like your tea?" he piped with a burlesque decorum as he crossed toward the small ceramic stove and the tea pot on the counter, his boots clicking evenly.

"Um, milk and sugar?" Bella answered as her gaze was immediately drawn to the place across from her. A slab of uncooked meat, pooling in its own blood, sat in the middle of a china plate in morbid contrast with its Grandmother dainty roses. A fork and knife were stabbed into the middle, standing up at attention as if his meal had been offensively interrupted.

She supposed it had.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste, her attention panned the rest of the room. In contrast to the shop with its gaudy Harry Potter mish-mash, the kitchen was neat and austere. Saturated in an aged yellow light from a bare bulb in the ceiling, the lines of the room were harsh and unforgiving. The counters were empty and clean, but battered by age. There was nothing adorning the walls, no ornamentation of any kind except a functional wall calendar with the days laid out in a plain grid. Each passed day had been marked with a neat, thick X, meticulously placed in the very center of each box.

Bella's gaze returned to the man across the room who was pulling out mismatched china cups from the cupboard. In the phlegmatic light of the kitchen she could see that he had a slight hunch to his shoulders that made his Adam's apple jut forward like Ichabod Crane. However he was completely ageless – time had not etched a single line in his face, though its hawkish structure gave him the appearance of being in his thirties. His hair was dark brown and shaggily cut so its waves made it messy– and fit well with the rest of his appearance. Worn at the elbows, his leather jacket had been repaired with white thread across a gash in the back. It fell down to his skinny and similarly worn jeans from which those idiosyncratic pointed boots protruded. Unlike the rest of his apparel, his boots – though obviously not new - had been vigilantly cared for and were polished to a dull black shine.

As she watched him fastidiously place each cup in the center of a dissimilar saucer with an almost effeminate grace, Bella noted that – other than his eyes (and perhaps those pointed boots)– he was absolutely average.

Every last one of the Pack – even its gentlest member, Brady - oozed raw and undeniable power. _This_ man had none of the musculature or size, or that innate command about him. Had she met him on the street, she would have thought him to be a gay artist or bookworm…or maybe a gamer geek.

In other words, just a normal guy. With an attitude problem.

Not a werewolf.

He turned around with two tea cups balanced in one hand, cream and sugar in other and a knowing smile as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud.

Bella rearranged herself on the seat uncomfortably as he walked toward the table with his clicking step.

"I kind of pictured you to be more…" Her mouth threatened to babble nervously on but she stopped herself as he set a cup down before her with an expectant raise to his brow.

_More old, more supernatural… more frightening?_

When Bella merely drew the cup into her palms, clearing her throat in chagrin, the Were chuckled and threw himself into the chair opposite her.

"I'm the ultimate chameleon, m'dear," he murmured cockily. "Totally, unremarkably human…" he paused. "… on the _outside_." A glittering smile slid across his lips as he raised the cup to them. "A raging beast within."

Bella frowned sitting up and leaning her elbows on the table. "It doesn't look like it," she told him earnestly.

The Were took a swallow of steaming tea and then set his cup down. "Looks can be deceiving, luv," he smacked matter-of-factly. "Now, tell me a little bit about yourself, will you? For instance, what are you called?" He pulled the gruesome plate closer to him and daintily plucked out the knife and fork.

"Bella," she replied absently as watched him in horrified fascination as he sawed a piece from the raw, bloody meat.

He glanced up from under his heavy brow at her interest. "Oh forgive me! How rude!" He scoffed. "Would you like some?" he scooted the plate toward her tauntingly.

Bella shook her head as her gaze dropped to the table. "Um, no thanks. I'm vegetarian," she mumbled. Which she was, for the most part. Not in a neurotic kind of way, but she didn't really have a taste for meat. _Especially_ raw.

With a soft chuckle the Were pulled the plate back toward him with a clatter and the scrape of metal on ceramic continued.

"So, Bella is it?" he prodded her back on course.

"Yeah." Bella took a deep breath and opened up the sugar bowl and pulled out a neat white cube to distract her from the civilized slaughter before her. "And there's nothing much special about me – I'm pretty boring, actually."

"Oh of course. How silly of me," the Were crooned in overstated sympathy, making Bella look up with a scowl. "Just a poor, boring human who's an innocent victim of unnatural circumstances." He shoved a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewed while he watched her with his strange eyes.

"That about sums it up, yeah," Bella laughed derisively.

"Aren't we all," he hissed and a humorless smile peeled back from blood-stained teeth. It made him look… savage.

Bella blinked rapidly.

The man sniffed a laugh at her expression as he chewed crassly, pulverizing the blood flesh in an open mouth.

"So," his knife again sliced through the meat on the plate before him. "Tell me a about your _big, bad wolf_. Surely you didn't marry someone similarly cursed, or you wouldn't be here telling me the tale." He slipped another bloody lump of meat between his lips.

Bella swallowed and returned her attention to her tea. "Um, well we _called_ them Werewolves," she began, pouring a stream of cream into the tea and watching it swirl. "But I guess that's not really right. They're shapeshifters. The Quileute have had shapeshifting Wolves in their tribe for generations."

"Ah yes," he affirmed around his full mouth. "I've heard tales of Indian shifters-…"

"Native American," Bella corrected tersely, looking up with disapproval.

The Were grinned with a flare of nostrils. "Of course, _forgive me_," he murmured mockingly. "They're part of the naturals; nothing like me," he sniffed in derision.

"A Viral?" Bella asked innocently.

When the Were paused with a furrow of confusion in his brow, Bella continued, backpedalling quickly. "I get it, the wolves are 'naturals,' like the Fae-" She caught her breath in surprise at the rumbling growl that tumbled across the table.

The Were's eyes flashed dangerously but he nodded her on.

Bella cleared her throat nervously, "and then there are Virals… like you. And Vampires."

"That's a tidy little moniker. And fairly accurate, I'd say," he tipped his head and sat back in his chair, considering her. "So how did an innocent, delicate, _boring_ little thing like yourself come to be wooed by a …" he paused and gave her an impertinent grin. "_Native American_ shifter?"

Bella picked up her spoon and stirred it once around her tea, trying to swallow the wash of longing and despair that came with talking about Paul at all. "His Wolf recognized me as his mate," she whispered, unable to keep the quaver from her voice.

"_Mate_," the Were chuckled and drew Bella's gaze back to his glittering eyes. " 'Such a deliciously carnal word," he leered.

Bella frowned and ignored his lurid undertone. "Do your kind imprint?" she asked as she brought the tea to her lips and took a sip.

"I had a wife, once," the Were answered as his gaze flitted around the room, chasing memories.

"What happened to her?" Bella whispered, the embers of her overactive empathy instantly flaring to life. Bella was a watcher – and she'd have had to have been blind to miss the flood of pain through his grey eyes.

"Well," the Were pushed the plate away from him and pulled the other chair toward him with the scuffing rattle of metal across linoleum. "Centuries ago I was a farmer and a blacksmith in a village near Brusand in southern Norway," he began in an unhurried, conversational tone. He propped his pointed boots up on the chair and settled back, snatching up the teacup and taking a sip.

Bella cupped her tea in both palms and waited.

"We'd been married for almost a year and she was pregnant with our first child," his gaze fell to the teacup as he set it carefully down with a click . "One winter evening, as I was coming back from a hunt, on a harvest moon…" he paused and looked up at Bella a tight lipped smile. "I was attacked by an animal," he related in the dispassionate sing-song voice of storytelling. "A wolf. The last thing I remembered was being savaged and realizing –in that crystal clear last moment of life – that I would die," he folded his arms over his chest. "Of course, I did."

Bella frowned as she leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. "You died?"

"Yes – to Change one first has to die. It was no mere wolf, of course, but a Were. Most Werewolves don't have the discipline it takes to merely kill and not _devour_ their prey, and even fewer victims survive the Change," his lip curled up from a canine. "Lucky me."

"So that's how you became…" Bella breathed.

"That is how I was cursed for eternity," he flicked his hair back from his collar and then rested his hands on the table before him as his gaze unfocused with memories. "But it didn't stop there. _Pain_. Like you've never imagined. For weeks I wandered fevered, mindless and crazed, Changing at night – though I had no idea what was happening, of course - I thought I was ill and passed out each night from the ravaging pain."

"It was painful?" Bella whispered hoarsely, her brow crumpled in empathy at the heart-rending suffering before her.

"It still is," he met her gaze with a dark smirk. "Not like your Shifters who Change with no more than a snapping shake of a fur sweater. _Every single time_ it's like every bone in your body is crushed, that your skin is being pulled from your flesh while each muscle is torn apart," he sniffed a humorless laugh. "Because that's exactly what happens. Not being a natural – like your wolf - the bastardization of our humanity comes at a very high price, indeed."

"That's horrible," Bella whispered. "You don't have any control over it?"

"It took me centuries to get to the point where I only have to Change as I do now: on a full moon," he hissed, unconsciously gripping the table. "On those nights, I simply lock myself in a fortified room in my basement and wait until the sun finally rises."

"You don't have any memory as the Wolf?" Bella asked quietly, her mind desperately searching for some angle or strategy in how to garner favor and gain control of such a fate.

The Were shook his head. "I wandered in a haze of pain and rage for weeks until the full moon and the Change was complete. On that morning, I awoke feeling more or less like a normal man, albeit with rage boiling me hollow with every breath," he bared his teeth. "The first thing I did was go home, of course. My wife, had thought me dead – and it would have been a far kinder fate. She was overjoyed. It was only in her arms that I finally found any measure of peace_... But at night_…" his voice broke and his gaze fell to the table.

Bella swallowed, shifting in her seat with the need to reach out and comfort him.

"I woke the next morning writhing in agony," he continued in a harsh, empty hiss. "Among the bloody remains of my wife's eviscerated corpse."

Bella choked on her horror as she watched the man across from her try struggle with his breath, suffering through memories he had carried with him for many mortal lifetimes.

Alone.

Breathing harshly through his teeth he looked up with hard, empty eyes. "So no, I'd say that I don't retain any memory as a Wolf," he quipped, returning to a contemptuously conversational tone. "And it just might be better that way."

Bella's forehead crumpled in heartbreak. How did he stand it?

She couldn't any more. Bella slithered her hand across the table. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, covering his hand with hers.

With a sharp hiss he jerked his hand back, standing up and knocking over his chair in one inhumanly quick movement.

"I-I'm s-sorry," she stammered, sitting back wide-eyed as she watched him rub his hand as if he'd been burned.

With a caustic smirk, he held up his hand, showing her a blistering burn now marring pale flesh.

Bella turned over her own hand in shock; his wound was an imprint -the same width and thickness - of the back of her silver wedding band.

" 'My only foil and the closest thing to Mother Moonlight incarnate," he murmured as Bella looked up at him with open-mouthed shock. "Silver," he drawled and then crossed to the ice box.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated as he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer and held it to the wound.

"No matter," he snorted and the popped off the cap with his thumb, catching it in his other hand. "So enough about me," he breezed sarcastically and tipped the bottle to his lips as a pointed toe kicked open the cupboard under the sink. With casual aim, he tossed the cap into the rubbish bin below and then kicked it back closed. "Tell me about this unlucky vampire and what he's done to deserve the wrath of such an innocent, delicate, _boring_ young girl," he mocked and leaned back against the counter.

Bella patted the table with her palms. Jasper had warned her to be as vague as possible. "Well… to make a long story short…"

"Don't worry about that, gorgeous," he interrupted. "I've been cursed with eternity," he lifted a cunning brow and glanced at the calendar. "You can bore me for ages."

With a frown, Bella sat back. "To make a long story short," she repeated as if he hadn't interrupted. "One of them decided that I have gifts that would be useful in some war of theirs, so he wants me Turned."

"Gifts? Pray tell," he urged in an uninterested tone.

"Well something about shielding," Bella touched her temple absently. "Their powers don't work on me or something stupid," she rolled her eyes with an attempt at conspiratorial mockery herself.

But instead of smirking, his face grew thoughtful. "Ah, another Morgath," he nodded, with a knowledge that surprised her. Bella quickly began rethinking her strategy.

The Were tapped his thin lips with the bottle for a moment, then his gaze snapped back to her and his eyes hardened. "So why do you still live?"

"I bargained for two weeks," she lifted her chin in pride. "So I have two weeks to figure out how… _I'm going to_ _kill him_," she hissed murderously.

The Were laughed patronizingly. "Two weeks to find a way to spare your pitiful boring life?"

"I'm boring, but I'm not stupid," Bella snorted.

The Were chuckled appreciatively.

"I know I'm gonna die…" Bella began, and then leaned over the table with her conviction. "But he threatened _my family."_

"Such a heroine," the Were rolled his eyes. "He threatened that Wolf of yours?"

"Yes, and my father, my mate… " Bella paused a moment… and then quickly decided. "And our child."

His quick blink told her that she had been right that, in light of his own loss, bringing a child into the equation would garner more sympathy.

"They don't know you're here, I suppose," he murmured shrewdly as he stalked toward the table.

Bella shook her head.

The Were nodded slowly as he prowled toward her and his voice stretched over mockery. "So you expect me to believe that a vampire came out of nowhere," he rounded the table as Bella stiffened in her seat. "Threatened the little bitch of a _Wolf_ – I don't care what kind - _and_ _his puppy!" _he exclaimed like he was personally affronted._ "…_bloody _kidnapped_ you and you somehow negotiated two weeks in the process from monsters? And _then_ – boring little human you -somehow tracked _me_ down all the way across the Atlantic ocean?"

He came up behind her and smacked his hands on the table, caging her between his long arms. Bella swallowed, keeping her gaze steadily trained ahead as he leaned down behind her by her ear. "That's a bloody load of horse shit if I've ever heard it," he hissed by her ear.

Bella closed her eyes nervously as her mind spun.

Like lightning he was leaning beside the other ear. "Why don't you start over and tell me this tale from the beginning," he breathed. "With _no lies_."

He pushed off the table and strolled back around the table. Throwing himself back in the chair, he propped his feet up jauntily.

"As you were saying," he quipped with a cocky tilt to his head.

Taking a deep breath, Bella started from the beginning: with Edward and his 'vegetarian' family. His obsession with her blood and the fact he couldn't read her mind. How her best friend turned into a wolf because they were there– along with the rest of the Pack - and Paul had imprinted on her. Victoria's mistake in thinking she was Edward's mate and the battle that left Paul injured and her kidnapped. She ended with Paul's rescue from an abusive and crazed Edward in Rio.

As she related the crazy sequence of events – carefully distancing herself from the Cullens or calling them by name and skirting the fact that she had actually _dated_ Edward – she began to feel silly. She had never laid out her life story like this before and she realized that 'far-fetched' was probably the understatement of the century.

He'd never believe her.

But the Were listened stoically to it all, taking a sip from his beer now and again, but other than that, utterly unreadable.

Taking a deep breath, she began on the most recent turn of events. "So apparently, when Edward left, he went to the Volturi and that's how Aro found out about –"

**"ARO?!"**

Like a steel trap, the Were snapped forward, slapping his hands on the table with a crash and spilling his beer.

Bella jumped up, her hand going reflexively to her heart.

He batted the overturned bottle across the table with a flick of his wrist and it shattered against a cabinet as he skewered her with hard eyes.

"_This_ is the Vampire you wish to kill?" he choked on his own hiss.

Her heart sprinting so fast she was dizzy. Gulping, Bella nodded meekly.

For a few more moments the Were stayed prone over the table, baring his teeth as his breath tumbled along with the growl in his chest like sneakers in a dryer.

Then with a mercurial abruptness – that Bella was beginning to think was par for the course in both viral species – he threw his head back and laughed. It was dark and ridiculing sound.

Bella frowned and shifted her weight, her hands fisting at her side. She was quickly losing control of this situation (as if she had ever had any) and somehow that just made all fear irrelevant.

"I thought-" Bella began defensively.

The Were's head snapped back down. "You thought _what_!" he reproached through dwindling laughter. "Oh, ho ho," he made a theatrical production of wiping the corners of his eyes as he straightened.

"Are you _daft_, little bitch?" he snickered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head scornfully. "The rest of your tale is simply too preposterous _not_ to be true. I thought maybe you had caught the eye of one of the lesser Covens. Perhaps even Vladimir with what insanity he plots… but _Aro_!" Derisive chuckles of pure disbelief shook his shoulders as he turned and crossed the kitchen to the refrigerator.

Bella took a resetting breath as her mind scrabbled for traction in this mess. She desperately picked up the only useful thread in his diatribe: "What do you know about Vladimir?" she asked softly as the Were turned from the icebox with another beer in hand.

The corner of his lip lifted in a contemptuous smirk as he popped off the metal cap and it skittered across the floor, neglected this time.

He took a long unhurried draught that nearly drained the bottle. "Vladimir," he gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Vladimir has always been a bloody fool," he glared at her with derision.

"Carlisle said…" she began.

"Carlisle!" he balked with a barking laugh. "I should have known he'd be behind all this nonsense," he gestured dismissively at Bella. "_Another_ bloody idiot!"

Bella licked her lips, suddenly feeling the urgency of dwindling optimism. This had so, so not gone as she had hoped.

"Carlisle said he's planning a coup and is making an army of Children of the Moon…" Bella pressed.

At such simple words a strange expression flashed across his carefully crafted façade. The Were's shoulder's fell and he slumped against the counter, tipping another reckless mouthful of lager down his throat. "He is," he rasped in pained affirmation.

Blinking and trying to keep up with yet another about-face, Bella licked her lips and dove in. "Can you tell me what you know? I thought maybe I could somehow, um, get in with them or something. Get the Werewolves on our side…"

"_Our side_," the Were chuckled darkly. "There is no '_our_,' little bitch." He looked up with a callous steel to grey eyes. "There's only '_me_.'" He sniffed a laugh and tipped the bottle again to his lips.

Bella drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. "It doesn't _have_ to be that way," she began quietly. "We could go find them… maybe help them-…"

"_Help_ them!" he shrilled suddenly slamming his beer down. "I hear them _in my dreams_ – all bloody night! Screaming in agony! Do you know how many survive the attack itself? Do you know how many _of those_ survive the next few weeks of torment? Do you know how many OF THOSE survive the first full moon?" he stalked toward her, his lips peeling back from his teeth ominously. "Vladimir is throwing bodies away by the truckload!"

Bella backed up a few steps from his wrath and brought her hand up behind her, steadying herself against the wall. "That must be horrible to watch," she soothed in the velvet croon she used for wolves losing their shit– she'd had many years to practice this particular skill, after all.

"Can you communicate with them? Maybe we can help them? Is there a cure?" Bella soothed, trying to refocus him –another strategy. If he was anything like _her_ Wolf, he needed direction to keep from simply incinerating in his own rage.

The Were paused mid-stride and cocked his head curiously at her tone. And then he smiled – it was a frighteningly empty expression. "You learned a few tricks, eh?" he laughed softly and then shook his head. "Oh there's a cure, alright," he whispered, low and thin and deadly. "The _Fae_…" he paused spitting hatefully off to the side. "They can 'cure' this disease… but only if they catch it before the first full moon."

Bella blinked in surprise.

"And do you want to know _why_?" he crooned menacingly as he again began a slinking prowl across the room again.

Stalking her.

"Because they _created_ it," he breathed with an exaggerated nod of his head.

Bella stiffened and pressed her back up against the wall at the hate and savagery in those eerie eyes.

"The _beautiful_, high and mighty Fae –as per usual - send someone else to do their dirty work," he hissed roughly as he skirted the table and set the bottle down with an exacting slick. "They _made _mewhat I am. They made _us all_ – damned us to a miserable soulless eternity as an adulteration of the Creator's hand – to fix their _dirty little secret…"_ oily sarcasm sluiced over the last three words and he paused not a foot from her.

He leaned over her menacingly until she could smell the bloody meat and yeast of lager on his breath. "And _that_ secret is _Aro_," he hissed.

"Aro?" Bella choked, her eyes wide.

The Were nodded slowly as his gaze washed indolently over her face. "Aro," he breathed, almost like lover's whisper. "Used to be one of them. He was one of the _immaculate_ _Fae_; the first-born sovereign rulers of our sad little world," he sniffed an acidic laugh. "So many gifts, but it wasn't quite enough, was it?"

Bella swallowed thickly as her eyes darted between his cold glare.

"_Aro_ wanted more," the Were pushed abruptly away from her, sucking in a deep breath as he turned back toward the kitchen. "So now he sits as the consummate King of the Damned, where even the Fae loathe to touch him," he laughed haughtily. "So the sublime and incomparable _Fae_ send… " he turned around and gestured to himself grandly. "_Werewolves_."

Bella's shock bloomed into indignation and she pushed off the wall. "It's the _Fae_ who should be damned, not you," she bit out fiercely.

The Were whipped around with a small smile curving his lips. "Aw, how lovely," he murmured with a click of his tongue. "Such an adorable little bitch."

Bella frowned at his derision, but continued on desperately. "Help me! Help me _kill_ him! For what they've done to you, for what they're doing _to them_," she urged passionately. "I don't have a choice: I _have _to get Turned…. But I can help from there. There're others too. We can take him down togeth-…"

"You _really_ think I'll help you?" he sneered squaring his shoulders with an indignant toss to his head.

"I haven't survived all this time by being charitable," he gestured harshly at the calendar. "I've survived by being alone!" he boomed. "The Fae have _graciously_," he twisted the word hatefully. "…allowed me to continue this living hell as long as I don't do what they _made _me to do…_kill_," he spat viciously.

The Were shoved a hand through his hair and then took another long draught of beer. "I spend each and every day of my life alone," he mused under his breath morbidly. "…a living eulogy to their cowardice and a pathetic casualty of their failure."

Bella took several compassionate steps toward him. "But those Wolves in your dreams…they're _your_ _people_," she breathed quietly.

"I don't have a people!" he snarled. "I only have _me_!"

Something in Bella snapped. "Instead of licking your wounds, you could change that!" she came back hotly.

"FUCK!" The Were brought down both fists on the table with a crash and it shattered under his fury and Bella jumped back.

His lips peeled back, viciously baring teeth as he skewered her with a glare. "Do you think I don't know that you're sashaying in here all beautiful, doe-eyed and ingenue... offering me scraps of some parody of hope because you're _desperate_?" he spat in a spray of vehement spittle. "You just want to protect what's _yours_! _Your_ mate, _your_ child!" He growled through gritted teeth. "You don't give a _rat's arse_ about me!"

"Yes I do," Bella whispered, because she did.

Of course anything she decided had to put Paul and Caleb first, but there was so much pain and suffering in this man that she couldn't just turn her back in the process.

She just couldn't.

He froze, his gaze running over her face as he his forehead crumbled in disbelief – as if he could read that loud and clear. Paul had always told she was like an open book – it was one of the things he'd loved about her.

The Were closed his eyes as his shoulders fell. "Well I wanted what was mine," he rasped hoarsely, as he drew in a shaking breath through his nose and then opened eyes that didn't try to hide their suffering. "And _she's_ _gone_."

Bella bit her trembling lip as tears burned and blurred the room in sympathy with that suffering.

A suffering that was _so very close_ to her own.

"Get out," he hissed quietly.

Bella pressed her lips together dolefully. "Please, I-"

"GET OUT!" he bellowed his rage going from zero to sixty in a blink. With a roar, he threw the pieces of the table across the room with a deafening crash. "**GET THE FUCK OUT**!"

Instinctively crouching and covering her head, Bella turned to flee as smash after thundering crash followed her out into the shop.

Bella sprinted through the dark room, with only the street lights outside to guide her, banging her shins on anonymous furniture and stumbling into counters while the Were raged behind her with blood curdling roars.

As she yanked open the front door, the little bell tinkling wildly, he yelled after her from the back of the store in a rough voice that was no longer human:

"Come back when you're Turned and then I'll show you the _meaning_ of charity!"

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	12. Death

_Thanks for your notes - they totally rock my day._

_'_

_And, if you're interested, look up "Swan Lake Music Box" on Youtube to hear what it sounds like. A little trivia: I had a little geisha music box that played it when I was little. It's haunting... especially when it slows down._

_'_

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

'

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Death<strong>

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Bella had a death grip on the steering wheel as she careened down the – _thankfully_ – empty evening streets, fervently trying to remember to stay on the _right_ side of the road. Which, in this country, happened to be the left.

Blinking tears from her eyes that were making halos of the streetlamps, she glanced fearfully in the rearview mirror. She didn't know what she expected to see. A rabid wolf chasing down her flimsy hatchback, perhaps?

Drawing in a shaking breath, Bella wiped her tear-stained face with the back of a trembling hand and then returned it to the wheel. Luckily it was only about 16km back from the shop on the outskirts of town to Knighton and the George and Dragon Inn.

She jerked the car haphazardly into the first parking space she found near her destination and yanked up the parking brake. Leaning her head back on the seat, she closed her eyes for a moment as her breath heaved like she'd just sprinted those last 10 miles instead of driving them.

How could that have gone _so wrong? _

Bella shook her head slowly and then opened bleary eyes. Her last vestiges of hope had shattered, baring the desolation that she no longer had the strength to deny.

Swallowing, Bella pushed open the car door and arduously swung her feet out to the ground. Feeling nauseous, she leaned over her thighs, letting her head hang between her knees as her heart continued to ricochet off her ribs.

_HOW _could that have gone so wrong!

It had been her last hope, and she had totally blown it. Well to be fair, even in the 20/20 of hindsight, she couldn't figure what she could have done differently to change the outcome. That man had had _centuries_ to calcify in bitterness and hate. There was nothing a "doe-eyed ingénue" could do in the space of a few short hours – or weeks, for that matter -to change that.

Laughing humorlessly as her mind played back the disastrous evening – along with all his histrionics – Bella pushed up off her thighs and climbed out of the car.

She paused, rolling her eyes at her laughable parking job, and then threw the door shut with a "fuck it" slam and strode toward the George and Dragon Inn.

The narrow streets were strangely empty, tumbling mist creeping on cat paws over the cobblestone sidewalks.

_BONG_!

A doleful bell pealed once through the night. Bella glanced up: it was 10:30.

Straight ahead, Knighton's famous clock tower loomed sentry to each fleeting minute of her life. Bella shivered, the hairs going up on the back of her neck.

Casting an unnerved glance behind her, Bella hurried to Pub – below the Inn – and its medieval-style paned window casting a waffle imprint of light across the road. Jasper had said to meet him here.

With another nervous glance down the deserted street – she couldn't shake the feeling she was being followed – Bella pushed open the door and was instantly absorbed into the raucous sound of ale, music and mates (in the British sense of the word).

The stark contrast to the empty street was shocking.

Bella stood in the doorway for a moment, slack-jawed, as her gaze drifted over the chaos of carefree laughter, heckling at televised football (again, in the British sense of the word), and the clink of glass mugs and heavy drinking. _This_ is why the streets were so empty: everyone was _here_!

Sucking down lager like there was no tomorrow…on a _Tuesday_ night.

The smell of fresh-baked bread and stew wafted over the tang of ale and coaxed Bella forward a few more steps into the room. The door closed behind her with the jingle of sleigh bells.

That bell was like the starting gun and Bella stumbled under the weight of hopelessness closing over her head.

Her gaze was caught by the figure that shot up at the far side of the room.

_Jasper_. She sighed in relief.

Eyes trained desperately on his familiar form, her feet slowly carried her around tables filled with rough journeymen toward the private booth in the far corner. As she approached, Jasper sat back down, concern pulling at his brow and putting tension in his spine. Bella slid into the seat opposite him and leaned back against the six-foot dark oak booth that felt like it was from a set from Lord of the Rings. She closed her eyes as her breath frantically tried to recapture its rhythm.

After a moment, Bella opened her eyes to Jasper's tense gaze, his hands clasping an untouched glass tankard of amber lager on the heavy oak table. Sucking in a deep breath, Bella leaned forward and her hands reached out in silent petition.

Jasper scooted the mug toward her across the knotted grain. Bella grabbed up the glass and brought it shakily to her lips and took a long draught of bitter, foamy liquid.

Shuddering, she set it back down and met Jasper's worried eyes. Eyes that were reassuringly honey-light.

"He won't help," she whispered.

Jasper expelled a breath through his nose. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Bella swallowed thickly and nodded. "He nearly took my _head_ off," she wheezed as she again slurped down another mouthful of foul beer. At least it was warming the hopeless chill inside her.

"Tell me what happened, Bella," Jasper's hand snaked tentatively across the table.

Bella's met his halfway and her fingers frantically intertwined with his marble touch.

Jasper looked up from their clasped hands with sad smile. "Tell me," he repeated quietly. "You probably learned a lil' somethin' that we can use."

Bella sniffed a laugh. "Oh, yeah. I learned several '_lil' somethin's_,'" she commented dryly.

The front door wheezed open with the telltale jingle of the bell and Bella whipped around, with in a sharp breath. Her nerves were shot.

A man hunched in a hooded sweatshirt blustered into room as his cronies at the bar sent up unintelligible grunts of greeting. Bella turned back to where Jasper was casually watching the scene.

He met her gaze expectantly. "So," he urged, scooting a bowl of stew flanked by a chunk of hearty bread toward her.

And Bella began.

For almost an hour, she told him every sequence of events, every detail she could remember of her devastating meeting with the enigmatic Grey Mocker. From his asinine attitude to the heartbreak of his life's story, Bella related it all in a halting monotone as she took sip after sip from the mug of ale.

He listened with rapt attention and zero commentary until she got to the appalling revelations about the Fae's "_dirty little secret_." Then, his cool composure disintegrated in shock.

He abruptly sat back like he'd grounded a lightning strike.

Bella watched Jasper's mouth soundlessly open and close as she ripped off a piece of bread and dunked it in the stew. She took a bite and continued stoically on.

Finally she came to the frayed bitter end of the tale and her words dwindled to silence as her gaze fell to her half-eaten stew.

Bella fished a carrot from around the neglected chunks of beef, and chewed on it mechanically.

"So, there's no hope of his help," she whispered to her plate. "And I guess I can't blame him."

Jasper leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table. Bella met his gaze with her anguish.

"What are y' gonna do, darlin'?" he asked quietly.

Bella shook her head in resignation. "What's left?" she sighed hopelessly.

Jasper's brow dipped in sympathy. "Well, we can see if Rose an' Emmett have found Vladimir yet…" he shoved his lip through his teeth thoughtfully. "Since you confirmed that angle, I think it's our best card to play in this thing," he mused. "It's jus' gonna take time," his lips pursed apologetically.

Bella sniffed a laugh. "More than two weeks," she hissed.

Jasper's gaze fell to the table where his finger came up to idly trace a knot in the wood.

Bella pushed her plate to the side and sat back, closing her eyes with a doleful sigh. For several minutes – or maybe hours – they sat silently across from one another, immersed in the gaiety of the simpler lives around them.

"You were right, y'know," Jasper's sudden whisper made her heavy lids slip open.

She watched him with tired eyes as he swallowed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. "It was greed," he whispered.

Bella cocked her head against the worn wood behind her.

"I'm _sorry_," he continued with hushed sincerity. "I never really had no one show me that kindness a' yours, and I got all gluttonous about it." He sniffed a humorless laugh. "Our kind is insatiable by our very natures-"

Bella sat up with a contentious furrow of her brow, ready to call him on the evasion.

"_But_," Jasper continued quickly with a staying raise of his brow. "It_ don't have to be that way_," he affirmed with a small knowing smile.

Bella's mouth closed with a soft pop. It _was_ exactly what she was going to say.

"I _do_ love you, y'know," he murmured as his face softened to sentimental. "You're _kind_… givin', acceptin', just so real," his brow dipped earnestly. "And those powerful emotions a' yours..." he shook his head with a sing-song humming relish.

Bella rolled her eyes, instinctively lightening the sheer gravity of such a confession.

Jasper smiled softly and leaned forward as his hands slid over the table to take each of her own. "There ain't another being on this earth who'da looked in _these eyes_…" he pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. "These empty, soulless eyes... and bothered to offer any kind of understandin'. Any hope for redemption at all."

Bella blinked back tears at such heartfelt words and she turned her hands over to grasp his.

"But _you _did," he whispered.

"Jasper-…" Bella began in a watery voice.

"What'd I do?" He spoke over her, his face hardening in disgust. "I just tried to take _more_," he spat.

"See, I didn't know the _first thing_ about love before you taught me," he cocked his head as he eyes narrowed intensely. "I didn't know that it ain't what you _get_, but what you _give_. And there's all kinds a flavors of it - none of 'em better than the other - but all of 'em about the same thing: accepting and _giving_.

And expecting nothin' back."

Bella held Jasper's unadorned gaze for several awed heartbeats as she squeezed his cold, inert flesh. It took a good man to admit his mistakes.

It took an exceptional one to learn from them.

Jasper's adam's apple bobbed with his swallow. "I _want _to be your friend, Bella," he declared passionately. "And I'm gonna do _everything_ I can to get you through this mess … stand by you until that filthy rat-bastard's_ dead_. And your mate and lil' boy never have to worry."

Bella pressed her lips together in a quiet sob as tears finally broke free from her lashes. Sniffling wretchedly, she pulled her hands from Jasper's grasp and wiped at her cheeks impatiently.

Jasper sat back and a sad smile curved his lips. "Aren't we a pair, huh?" he chuckled humorlessly.

Bella nodded with a little hysterical giggle as she blinked through salty sorrow.

"A tender human angel who's lost the will to live," he murmured, handing her a napkin. "And a soulless immortal who's just learning what it means to be alive."

Bella sniffled and wiped her messy face with the napkin. "Poetic," she hiccupped.

Jasper wiggled his brows with a pompous smile.

A sincere laugh burst from her lips and Jasper grinned.

Bella set down the napkin on the table and considered him a moment. "But I think they're all wrong," she whispered.

Jasper's brow raised.

"You're _not_ soulless," Bella murmured earnestly.

Jasper's face softened and he again reached out his hand to cover hers. "Thanks, lil' darlin'."

Bella nodded once and her gaze fell to the table as her mind spun in hopeless circles. This heartfelt conversation just stripped her defenses down a little too close to the intimate quick. Her heart was such a swollen, heavy thing.

"Bella," Jasper murmured.

She looked up with eyes that were again leaking despair.

"I know how to make it quick," he breathed.

Bella blinked in confusion and two tears sprinted down her cheeks.

"When all this is over...when that bastard's sent to burn for eternity_ in hell_," he growled, baring his teeth. Jasper rearranged himself and leaned over the table, squeezing her hand. "If you still want to die..." he licked his lips as his eyes bored into hers with intensity.

Bella gulped with a little nod.

He finished in a vow made in nearly an inaudible whisper, "I'll help you with that too."

Bella's eyes darted between his somber gaze for a moment.

As wrong as it probably was, there was unspeakable comfort in that oath. Not just that she would die at the hands of someone she trusted – if she made it that far – but that, no matter how he felt about it, he'd do everything he could to give her what she needed.

In other words,_ a friend._

Slipping her hand from his, she stood, leaning over the table. Both trembling palms reached out to cup his jaw with all the tenderness in her being.

"Thank you," she murmured as she gazed deep into his amber eyes.

Jasper's lids fluttered closed and he swallowed thickly.

With a sad smile, Bella leaned closer and pressed her lips to that cool cheek and Jasper sucked in a breath of surprise through his teeth.

"Thank you for everything, Jasper," she whispered by his ear and then rubbed her cheek sweetly over his jaw as she pulled away.

She sat back in her seat and watched his expressive eyes pop open, a touched awe softening them.

"_That_ kiss I gave willingly," Bella smiled.

" '_Much_ better than the first," Jasper agreed with a canny raise to his brow.

"Much better," Bella grinned.

To her relief, the tension between them had completely evaporated, leaving nothing but the tender affection between two friends who had many trials and tribulations behind him.

And before them as well.

If Bella had to fall down this stairway to hell, it was comforting not to have to do it alone.

"I think I need to have a lil' chat with Rose and Emmett," Jasper sucked in a resetting breath, instinctively folding away the intimacy of the moment and returning to the task at hand. " 'See if they got any news and give 'em an update on the _dirty lil' secrets _you dug up."

Bella nodded and sat back, pulling the half-drunk mug of ale toward her. "Mind if I stay here for a few minutes?" she asked, idly tracing the condensation on the glass. She needed some time alone to readjust and reset - and she just didn't want to do it in an empty hotel room.

"Shore thing, darlin'," Jasper returned easily with an encouraging nod. "Just relax down here as long as you like - I got a tab goin' so you can get you a few more a' those lagers if you want."

"Kay," Bella sighed, taking another sip of the ale which was suddenly not so bitter. She barely ever drank alcohol, so she already had a nice soothing buzz going on.

And it was the perfect antidote to the rest of the day.

A private smile curved Jasper's lips as if that fact already showed on her face. "Just call if you need help getting up the stairs," he laughed softly.

Bella's eyelids fluttered as she gave him a long-suffering sigh.

Jasper snickered as he stood and scooted out of the booth.

"I'll be upstairs," he informed her, genially patting the back of her hand. With another kind smile, Jasper turned and weaved through the crowded room toward the door.

Bella leaned back and brought the glass of ale again to her lips …and then set it down in annoyance. Her arm itched, she realized. Shoving up her sleeve, Bella pulled at the silicon burn-bandage Jasper had made her place over his still-oozing bite - to mask the smell of blood, he'd said. Pulling off the offending thing, she absently rubbed her fingers over the tender wound as her mind cataloged all the traumatic events of the last four days.

For maybe 20 minutes, maybe more, Bella sat quietly in the reveling chaos of working class indulgence and let a second glass of lager ooze through her veins with counterfeit calm.

She needed to sleep. She'd barely rested at all over the last few days - afraid that her dreams would bring her to Paul - but now as the adrenaline ebbed, along with the beer's influence, she was finally feeling it.

Deciding finally to lay the all failures to rest for another day- along with herself - Bella scooted out from the table.

With a final glance at the booth, Bella habitually patted her pockets and then rolled her eyes at herself. Good thing she wasn't too drunk to make it up the stairs, because she'd left Jasper's phone in the car.

With an annoyed huff, Bella negotiated the room of dwindling patrons, and, with a casual "thank you" to the bartender, slipped out.

The heavy door of the Pub squeaked closed behind her with a _thunk_, muffling the noise and throwing the street into silence. Bella glanced up at the clock tower: a little past midnight. Rubbing her arms against the damp chill of the fog that rolled thickly now down the deserted streets, Bella headed down the block for the car.

She could see it up ahead. It was hard to miss - nearly jackknifed in the small stall, one bumper sticking out in the road.

"Bella, you _suck_ at parallel parking," she muttered to herself. She should've asked Jasper to fix that before he went upstairs. After two glasses of strong Welsh spirits, she certainly wasn't going to attempt it herself.

As she neared the car, she pulled out her keys and they jingled, echoing through the silence like a sparkling tune. Bella's breath caught in her throat as she stilled them in her palm - that wasn't an echo, it was..._music_.

Stopping in the middle of the cobblestone sidewalk, Bella craned her neck to catch the tinkling little melody that swirled as ephemeral as the mists around her.

She_ knew _that song. Swan Lake.

Her breath had gone shallow and light in her breast as Bella took several tentative steps toward the spiderweb notes that climbed the walls of the buildings lining the empty street.

Several stumbling steps brought her to an alley between two darkened shops. Her heart pounding in her throat, Bella peered down the gloomy passageway and saw _the music box_ sitting open on top of a trash bin, playing its haunting melody to no one.

No one, but her.

Bella's head whipped up and down the deserted street, as her breath skated over parted lips.

What was this doing here?Had the Were_ reconsidered? _

A million wispy thoughts swirled in her tipsy mind as she took two steps toward the little instrument, tugged by an irresistible curiosity. With a few more steps she reached the box, her hands running over the wooden inlay in disbelief. Blinking, her fingers traced the velvet interior:

No note, no nothing.

"Well look what I've caught in my little trap," a chilling and familiar voice crooned from behind.

Bella froze, her eyelids fluttering closed as a cold wash of dread crept up her spine.

Drawing a breath through her nose, Bella slowly turned around. The Grey Mocker was leaning indolently against the mouth of the alley.

"A little mousie," he murmured theatrically and pushed off the wall, taking a step toward her. "Or is it a _rat_?" he hissed.

"What're you doing here?" she wheezed, her hand gripping the rubbish bin to steady the vertigo of fear.

"Do you know I actually _believed_ you?" he accused in a harsh whisper as if she hadn't spoken. "I fell for those doe-eyed tears like the daft little _chump_ you thought me to be, didn't I?"

Bella gulped and backed up a step.

"I felt _so horrid,"_ he shook his head with fake dismay and an exaggerated purse to his lips. "_So_ horrid, that I thought I'd bring you a little token of amends..." he continued, clasping his hands before him and glancing at the music box that was tinkling merrily on, oblivious to the menace in the air.

"But what do I find? I find you with one of _them_," he bit out words that disintegrated into a growl. "Fondling… _kissing_, even!" he snarled gutturally.

Bella's throat had constricted in terror and she slowly shook her head as she fled from that frightening prowl. She tripped over a cardboard box and caught herself against the wall. "It-It's not wh-what it looks-" she wheezed.

"**BULLSHIT**!" he roared. "When he passed me at the bar, I could smell it!" He lunged forward and yanked Bella up by the arm, making her stumble toward him with a whimper of pain.

Ripping up her sleeve, he twisted her arm out roughly as maniacal eyes raked across the wound - a bold, oozing bite mark in contrast to her white skin.

"I could smell you on him and I _knew_! You let him _drink_ your blood!" he wrenched her toward him, grabbing her other arm in a vise-like grip. "What else did you let him do? Just a _whore_ making the supernatural rounds, eh little bitch?" he hissed vehemently, so the spittle sprayed across her face. "I should have taken my turn, when I had the chance," he bit out obscenely.

"H-he's j-just a friend," Bella gasped, her eyes clenching shut from terror and the pain in his grip.

The Wolf laughed bitterly and threw her effortlessly across the ally. Bella crashed into a pile of wooden boxes, crying out as her arm broke with an audible snap on impact.

"Don't worry, I wouldn't sully myself with such filth," he disparaged.

Bella sobbed quietly as she cradled her arm, her feet scrabbling against the cement, frantically trying to stand as the Wolf continued to stalk her.

"You _played_ me..." his voice had gone deep and rumbling. "Who'd of thought burlesque kindness could pack such a sucker punch, eh?" he laughed in a nearly inhuman growl. His silhouette rippled eerily in the darkness and with a gasp of pain, he doubled over. "You beat me at my own game!" he ground out through his teeth as his body convulsed.

"P-Please..." Bella choked on her panic as tears sprinted down her cheeks. "It's n-not-"

The Wolf straightened suddenly, skewering her with pure, unadulterated hate. "**YOU GAVE ME HOPE!**" he bellowed, his voice breaking and crumbling like hard clay. "How _dare_ you! You made me-…"

With a deafening bellow of agony he threw his head back. His tortured cries were shattered by animalistic growls, as, before Bella's eyes, he Changed. His body flailing wildly, it contorted in on itself. The repulsive snapping of bone and gruesome ripping of flesh churned in the ghastly soundtrack of the music box's slowing melody.

In mere a blink of a brutally violent transformation, a dark wolf – only a little larger than a normal wolf with thickened sinewy muscles under its short fur - lunged up forcefully off the concrete alleyway and snarled viciously.

Bella froze in horror as the beast's lips peeled back from long, gleaming fang. It was nothing like Paul's Wolf, not a sentient or receptive glimmer in its savage eyes. Ears pressed back, it slunk toward her on powerful haunches, pure hate wrinkling its muzzle while a slaughterous growl rumbled in its chest.

Bella's shaking hand came up to cover her mouth. And in that last crystal clear moment of life, she suddenly _knew_ she was going to die.

"I'm so sorry, Paul," she whimpered into her palm.

And they were the last words to leave her lips as the beast lunged for her with a snapping maw.

After that, it was nothing but screams.

'

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><p>'<p>

'

Paul pulled the plane across the grain of the maple plank, following with a smoothing palm to dust off the curls of wood.

When he kept his hands busy, it was better.

So that's what he'd done over the last day and a half. He'd kept them busy - attentively tending his son, helping Emily with her chores, and, as he was doing now, fixing the wreckage of what had been her beloved kitchen.

"Brady's mate wants to come," Jared snorted between growling pulls of his saw not 10 feet away.

"Yeah, I heard that," Jacob chuckled from where he sat in the grass outside the back door, and wiped a paintbrush dripping with varnish over a cabinet face.

Paul leaned down and gazed over the surface of the plank he was preparing before they assembled it inside the kitchen - otherwise the massive dining table wouldn't fit inside the door. Sam set a glass of lemonade down on the unsealed wood which Paul snatched up with lightning reflexes and an irritable growl.

Chuckling at his expense, Sam sat down on the back step and tipped his own glass to his lips. It was mid-day on Tuesday and the rest of the Pack had taken kids, mates – and Charlie and Sue - down to the beach for a picnic.

So the four of them could plan for war.

Paul had shared snatches of the conversation with Topher via the Pack mind, leaving out the most incriminating lessons he had learned. Paul was a private man, and there was no way he was going to be discussing 'love' with anyone other than his mate ...and maybe a freaky seven-foot bad-assed muthafucker.

He guessed he had could make one exception.

"Kai might be kinda handy to have around," Sam snickered. "He's the only one who can cook worth a shit."

Paul glanced over his shoulder with a derisive smirk. "Except you, sissy Sammy?"

His lips baring resentful canines, Sam tore out an ice cube and chucked it Paul.

Which Paul lithely dodged, snatching it out of the air before it could hit his perfect tabletop.

"We'll be eating out," Jacob groaned in a '_now, now, children'_ tone.

Suddenly all four of them froze, turning as one toward the sound down the driveway. The distinct sputter of a Cadillac made Paul roll his eyes with a huff and then unceremoniously return to his work.

"Whatttay think he wants _now_?" Sam asked nervously, setting his glass down and wiping his hands on his thighs.

Paul shrugged and pulled the planer across the wood with feigned nonchalance. Underneath his composure was burning with an all-consuming worry for his imprint. At the first sound of those tires crunching in the gravel, his heart had made a run for it up his throat.

He closed his eyes and measured the breath through his nose as Sam went around the front to greet Topher.

"You okay?" Jacob murmured, showcasing his annoying-as-shit blue-blood.

Paul's gaze darted to those sickeningly empathic eyes and he bared his teeth in warning.

"Howzit goin' boyz?" Topher rumbled as he came around back, flanked by a painfully uncomfortable-looking Sam.

Paul grunted non-committally and continued to push the planer meticulously across the wood while Jared fumbled with the hammer and glanced nervously at his Alpha.

Jacob rolled his eyes with a snort at the three of them and plopped the brush in the can, collapsing on the lawn and considering the large man with a grin and his usual dauntless charm. "Since we all know _you know_ the answer to that, big man, why don't you tell us what we can do for you."

"Fair 'nough, Cuz," Topher chuckled slyly. "Well I was thinkin' I needed a lil' vay-cay. Y'know, soak up some sun, get a lil' summer time in the country, all that shit," he grumbled as his cigar bobbed idly in the corner of his mouth.

Paul froze and straightened, eyeing Topher with interest as his own lightning mind sped ahead. He would feel much better leaving Caleb if Topher had his eye out, and - if he was right - that's exactly what the man (or whatever he was) was offering

Topher pointedly met his gaze. "Maybe help take care of the lil' chil'rens while youz all out and about," he murmured in cryptic affirmation.

Paul nodded tersely and turned to Sam's confused expression. "He can bunk at our place - it's probably good if everyone stays close including Charlie-…"

Paul choked on his words as - like he had been doused in Napalm - his entire body was engulfed in a viscous, burning pain. Gagging on his own tongue, every muscle seized and he slammed into the ground, knocking over one of the saw horses and making the heavy table crash down over him.

Paul didn't even notice that it was quickly removed by frantic hands, but bellowed hoarsely as his body continued to flail in excruciating agony. It was like he was being mauled by an invisible animal, its jaws ripping the flesh from his body, its foaming saliva burning like acid.

He arched against the ground, his teeth grinding, his hands digging into the soil as what felt like a mortal blow crushed his ribcage. Suddenly what felt like a huge hand followed the decimation and fisted around his heart, yanking it from his body and tugging along with it its network of nerves. It pulled a high keening wail from the deepest recesses of Paul's being.

The steel cables that held his very soul in place snapped with such force that his entire body spasmed across the ground.

And then it simply _stopped_.

The thud of Paul's heart echoed in his ears along with the heaves of his breath. Paul swallowed and his hand came up blindly to his chest - fully intact and uninjured - except for the invisible fluttering heartstrings where his imprint used to be.

Paul's eyes popped open to Jacob's terrified face leaning over him.

"Paul!" Jacob was gasping. "_Jesus Christ_!"

Paul pushed him roughly away as he lunged forward to slump over his thighs, panting like a racehorse as his ravaged, lonely heart tried to chew its way out of his chest. Hiccupping a hoarse sob, Paul bit his lip as his entire world tilted on its axis. It was a vertigo so violent that he heaved to his knees and puked convulsively until there was simply nothing left.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made his face whip up to where Topher was crouched beside him, an expression of tender concern that Paul had never seen softening the man's face.

Paul licked his lips as nostrils flared against prickling tears. "She's dead," he whispered hollowly.

Topher somberly nodded. "This time, she is."

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like_.


	13. Parlor Tricks

_Thanks for the awesome notes. I spent precious tiny time getting this up but I'll try to hit you back asap._

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_As always, thanks so much for reading and hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 13- Parlor Tricks<strong>

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><p>'<p>

Paul sat on the steps of the front porch, slumped over a drawing balanced on his thigh, a willowy figure was being revealed caged, in the ordered blue lines of college-rule. After exhausting every inch of white space of drawing pad number three, he'd just started using the cheap spiral kind he could buy at Cody's General Store for $.99. There had been many, many drawings over the last days – through planning meetings, cartoons, breakfast, lunch and dinner, and especially the long sleepless nights.

And they had all been of Bella.

But there was a different sort of frenzy to the brisk strokes of his pencil a mere hour after …

She had died.

Right now drawing her was the last connection he had - evoking her huge dark eyes and sweet full lips, hitched in a mischievous smile, the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts as she leaned casually against the counter with her nose wrinkled sarcastically.

The soothing comfort of their mating bond, the solid steel cables of their imprint - the very foundation of his heart and soul - had snapped leaving him feeling strangely free-floating and disconnected from this world. The sensation viscerally evoked his younger days – when he'd had his body, his mind, his soul to himself.

When he had been unfettered … and unhinged.

And Bella had wished for this. Wished that her death would break their preternatural connection so he could be set free and could move on. Well, it had.

And he _couldn't_.

He found himself pining even for the little "imprint annoyances" they had both joked about being able to do without: the dull ache in his bones, the tension in his heart – like an elastic band was stretched to its breaking point – and the acid nervousness that ate at his very being whenever she was away.

Those bonds were broken, but his love for her remained the same.

Paul paused in his frenetic sketching and traced the eraser of the mechanical pencil over the ropey scarring of his forearm draped over the pad.

Even the parade of teeth marks had disappeared.

_Everything_ was gone.

The only things that he had left were the pictures in his mind that Paul suddenly had the urgency to commit to paper, lest those be taken away too…

And Caleb.

Paul's gaze drifted from his arm to the toddler running across the grass, one hand clasped with his cousin's, the other fisted around a stalk of dried, dead daisies from Emily's compost pile. Their giggles pealed across the lawn as they skipped toward where Topher was lounging in that mysterious old Lazy Boy.

Caleb thrust the flowers into Topher's lap with a breathless chant of "Uncle Toe! Uncle Toe!"

Chuckling, Topher pulled the cigar from his lips with a sly smile. "Again?" he rumbled.

"YES!" both children rejoined in their little voices, jumping up and down with barely contained anticipation.

"Oh, alrighty," Topher capitulated with an eye roll and picked up the flower by its stem.

Green rushed up the dried stalk, renewing the feathery leaves and making the flowers bloom to fresh life.

"Yay!" they both squealed, clapping their little hands appreciatively.

If only he could work that magic on Paul's heart.

With a chuckle at such a gratifying reaction, Topher looked across the lawn at that moment, catching Paul's gaze with a shrewd smile.

Paul tipped his head in acknowledgement and let his eyes return to the paper. Topher had been graciously entertaining the kids with his "parlor tricks" - as he called them - ever since they had returned from the beach. And it was a good thing too; the rest of the Pack couldn't fake it anymore.

The entire Pack – including mates and Charlie and Sue – were dappled across the lawn, hanging out in beat up folding chairs under trees, spread out on blankets. The mood, even in the context of the astonishing magic being so casually showcased for the kids' benefit, was one of mourning… threaded with the unbearable dread of whatever came next.

_Ring, Ri-_

Every last gaze on the lawn snapped to where Paul ripped up his cell sitting vigilantly beside him, flipping it open in a single swipe.

"Yeah," he gasped as he bolted to his feet, the notebook jettisoning down the stairs.

"Paul, I need your help," the words were pulled taut over a telltale Southern drawl.

"Where the_ fuck _is she!" Paul snarled, turning and taking the steps in one leap. Sam was already at the screen door, holding it open.

Paul pushed roughly past him into the living room, holding the phone to his face with a barely-tempered grip that was dancing on the edges of crushing the thing.

"_Tell me_!" he growed into the tense silence on the other end of the phone as Jacob and Sam slipped into the house and closed the door softly behind them.

"I-I failed her," Jasper whispered hollowly in a voice that hemorrhaged despair.

Paul's heart flipped in his chest.

"What happened...?" he croaked like instant late-stage emphysema as he collapsed on the couch. His eyes darted up to meet Jacob's anguished gaze. There was somehow comfort in that look – he was suffering too.

"She's gone, Paul. I left her downstairs for less than an hour," Jasper rambled incoherently, sounding like he was in shock. _Could vampires go into shock? _

Paul's lips peeled back from his teeth as he gripped the phone with a desperate prayer for patience.

"When I went down to fetch 'er… as soon as I got out to the street I-I could smell it," he wheezed. "_So much blood_…" his voice withered into pained silence.

"**Fuck, Jasper**!" Paul bellowed, bolting up off the couch again and pacing the living room, his wild gaze raking the room as his heart clawed its way up his throat.

Jacob had doubled over from where he was perched on the armrest of the easy chair, breathing heavily.

"Easy…" Sam warned.

"**WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED**!" he yelled into the phone.

Paul could hear Jasper's gulping swallow. "She was attacked-…"

"SHE'S DEAD!" Paul returned in a harsh snarl. "**DEAD**!" All patience evaporated into hopelessness in the shock of Jasper's discomposure. If _he_ was so disconcerted, surely all was lost. Paul's body began to vibrate.

"_Give_," Sam bit out tersely, holding his hand out with a frown.

Paul bared his teeth and slammed the phone into Sam's palm, turning his back on him as he fisted his shaking hands in his hair.

"Jasper, it's Sam," he stated in a clipped efficient tone. "Let's start this again," he urged. "What happened?"

Paul's preternatural ear heard Jasper draw in a long slow breath.

"I don't exactly know – it was just a few minutes ago," he admitted quietly. "And the only one who does, would just as soon kill me as look at me."

"I like him already," Paul bit out hatefully from where he had collapsed against the mantle of the fireplace, hands prone and head hanging between them as he tried to calm the muscles that slithered ominously under his skin.

Jasper shared the same hearing. "_He's_ the one who attacked her."

Paul roared.

"A vampire?" Sam asked, glancing worriedly at Paul and then meeting Jacob's tortured gaze from where he had collapsed into the chair.

"No… a _werewolf_," Jasper whispered.

"What the FUCK!" Paul stormed pushing off the fireplace and turning with open-mouthed dismay.

"A _real_ werewolf," Jasper amended. "She'd gone to see him earlier to try to garner support in this war we got on our hands. And I think he came back. I didn't see that comin'! I really didn't see it-…" Jasper again disintegrated into fluster.

"Paul can't feel her, his bond's been severed." Sam stated evenly, refocusing him with that iron-clad analytical mind. "Is it possible she survived?"

"Not with how much blood-…" Jasper choked in what sounded like horror, rather than the hunger that Paul would have expected.

Sam sighed heavily, tipping his face to the ceiling and closing his eyes dolefully. Paul's stomach dropped, leeching his rage along with it and leaving nothing but a cold hard pit where his heart used to be.

"But-…" Jasper began, obviously struggling with his own emotions. _Did vampires even have emotions?_

Still, Paul's face whipped up at the shred of hope embodied in such a word.

"But there's an inklin' of a chance that she's Changed," Jasper expelled a breath.

Sam held out a warning hand toward Paul.

Paul suddenly realized how close he was to Phasing. He gulped down his heart and tried to still the tremors that were making his muscles bunch and seize.

"A chance she's Changed…?" Sam prompted smoothly.

"_Werewolf_," Jasper gasped.

Sam nodded and met Paul's desperate gaze. "So that's _something_, right?" he began tentatively.

"Yeah," Jasper agreed quietly. "Somethin' _horrible_."

"Horrible's something we can work with," Sam declared, looking Paul dead in the eye. "We'll be at Sea-Tac in less than two hours."

There was a pregnant pause on the other end of the phone. "I'm going against her wishes by doin' this," Jasper whispered. "She told me – if somethin' happened to her - to call and tell Paul to make a run with her boy. But-…"

Sam shifted his weight as he raised his brow toward where Paul was frenetically pacing the floor like a caged animal, feral eyes locked on Sam.

"But I don't think that'll do any good," Jasper murmured. "If the ones who're after her wanna find 'em, there's nothin' that's gonna stand in their way."

"We've got a few tricks up our sleeve with that one," Sam murmured, glancing out the window where Topher had both children on his lap and was telling them some kind of animated story. A story that was doing nothing to distract Caleb's myopic stare at the house. "The boy is safe."

"Alright," Jasper capitulated. "Leave behind only who you need to protect your territory, but bring as many of your boys as you can. I gotta feeling this is gonna end up in war," he whispered.

"We're ready. There'll be six of us," Sam informed him. "A South American rugby team," he added slyly.

Jasper chuckled on the other end of the phone, sounding a little more like himself. Finally. "That's a might clever," he murmured. "Text me the names and I'll charter a flight from _Newport_ – not Sea-Tac - and have a Satellite phone waiting at the counter. I'll catch y'all up on the plane."

"I'm staying," Sam sighed resignedly. "Can you conference me in?"

"Yeah, get you a burner cell from town and text one a' your boys the number," Jasper advised.

Paul ripped the phone from Sam's fist and brought it to his ear. "You did good calling us, Jasper," Paul conceded bitterly. "But you _do_ know – after we win this thing – that I'm gonna fuckin' _kill_ you, don't you?"

Jasper sighed on the other end of the phone. "I'm countin' on that, Paul," he whispered tiredly. "I'm countin' on that."

Then the line went dead.

Paul slammed the phone closed, and flipped it once in his fist, meeting his Packmate's eyes with steely determination.

This was it.

"Let's go," he hissed.

'

* * *

><p>'<p>

Jacob ran his fingers absently through Leah's black shining bob. She was stretched across the row of luxurious seating in the plane, snoring softly, her head in his lap.

_His chica._

He wanted to make her his wife, but she'd refused him. Several times.

But still she was here beside him. Theirs had been a rocky and tumultuous relationship: starting out each broken-hearted, in one way or another, they had stumbled along their path together until both of them could stand on their own.

Their wolves had yet to establish the sacrosanct "mating bond" and in all honesty – no matter what spin or lip service was paid to it - it was a sore point for both of them.

So, about six months after Caleb was born, Leah, insecure and bitter that yet again the fates had done her wrong, and Jacob, the consummate leader of others, but rarely of himself, had agreed to go their separate ways.

In Leah's case, she moved in to help Emily through her pregnancy.

In Jacob's he had taken the fast track to rock-bottom.

For almost three months the Pack had gone without an "Alpha" – though Sam and Paul had kept it all together – while Jacob did his best to do something that actually didn't come naturally: self-destruct.

It was a monumental task for Wolves to get drunk, but it wasn't quite such a challenge to get high, he discovered. Jacob consumed enough herb each day to singlehandedly keep McCormick in business… if it had been _that _kind of herb. He'd even experimented with a cocktail of a other illicit substances that he'd rather not remember – and, in fact, couldn't – as he picked up a cheap lay here and there, all in a desperate bid to forget.

Forget Leah.

Bella had stood by him through it all, so that meant Paul had too: driving out with his wife in the wee hours to pick him up from who-knew-where, with little Caleb bundled in car seat. Paul had hauled him up off enumerable bar floors and parking lots, and dumped him in the back of the truck while Bella had worriedly watched him through the little open window of the cab all the way home. Jacob spent much of those disastrous months sacked out on their couch – which was infinitely better than where he would've ended up on his own.

Until Bella had finally had enough.

She'd sat both Leah and Jacob down and delivered a passionate soliloquy on love and how her two friends had it. That it had nothing to do with wolves or legends or magic, it only had to do with heart.

Human hearts.

On that day Jacob had realized, since he broke the rules for everyone else, he could sure as hell break them for himself. He'd gotten down on his knees and begged Leah to come home - mating bond be damned - and thankfully (since Emily had been working her over good, he was pretty sure) she'd agreed.

He hadn't let her out of his sight since. And luckily that suited her just fine.

But there was still an undercurrent of bitterness that crept into the mix, even for "sunny funny" Jake. Especially when watching the deep abiding connection of the two imprinted couples and the nurturing magic of the lupine mating bond as it claimed one after another of his Pack.

But right now?

Right now Jacob was feeling _pretty fucking lucky_. For the first time in his life he was thinking that it just might be better this way after all: to have had that connection… and then have lost it?

Anyone would have to be blind not to see how much it had torn out Paul's heart

Jacob's gaze darted up to where Paul sat motionless in the chair across the cabin. The expression on his face could only be described as _stone cold severe_. Every muscle was taut and quivering, his hands were clawed over each arm rest, and his gaze bored a harsh, burning hole clear down to hell itself.

To Jacob's relief, this plane ride had been spectacularly less eventful than Sam had prepared him for. For over four hours, as they crossed the continent in the private jet, the Pack had all listened in rapt attention to Jasper's detailed account

Their neat little world had been turned on ear. Leah took quick scratching notes of each unbelievable revelation on one of Paul's notebooks.

While Paul paced a frenetic groove in the cabin floor.

From the Volturi's surprise visit in London, to Jasper's meeting with Bella ...and every traumatizing and horrible event that had followed after, Jacob found himself feeling sick to his stomach for all she had again been forced to endure.

But like some Fright Night triple feature, still the horrors paraded on in Jasper's stoic, tired drawl. They learned about the Fae and Werewolves (the real kind), Vampire royalty and plots for the throne.

And how Bella, if alive in some way at all, was writhing in unspeakable pain.

After Jasper had hung up, Sam and Jacob continued the discussion, comparing notes while Jacob kept glancing expectantly at Paul. Paul who was still pacing a neat, worn path – quite literally - in the carpet of the cabin floor.

_Finally_ Paul had thrown himself in a chair, and hissed his mandate through gritted teeth:

"This is what we're gonna do: _first_ we find Bella, then we find those fucking _fairies_ and get her fixed, and _then_ we figure out how to FedEx that _muthafucker Aro _straight down to hell. **I** wanna do it _personally_."

No one could find either fault or flaw with such a plan –and if they had, they wouldn't have been fool enough to say so - so there they'd left it.

That was the plan.

Only an hour of Atlantic Ocean remained before they touched down in London and the Pack was strewn all over the cabin - in both human and wolf form - competing with the roar of the engines with their chorus of wolvish snores.

Except Paul.

And Jacob, of course.

Paul hadn't moved a muscle from where he'd first thrown himself out of his relentless circuit of the cabin. And Jacob knew that look of his all too well; Paul was planning all the many ways he could murder -... well there was a pretty long list at this point. But Jacob – and more pointedly _Bella_ - needed him on his game.

Jacob gently strummed his fingers over his lover's cheek. When she groaned and switched positions, he carefully extricated himself from her embrace. That girl slept like a rock.

Jacob rubbed his hands nervously on his jeans, and moseyed on over – oh so casually – to plop in the seat opposite his brooding Pack mate.

Paul's eyelids fluttered over his smoldering stare. "You'd better not ask me how the fuck I'm doing, or I'll kill you," he crooned in a deceptively conversational tone.

Jacob grinned and pushed the little button in his armrest to let his seat back. "Nope, wasn't plannin' on it, so I guess I'll live another five minutes until I find another way to piss you off," he quipped as he propped his feet up on the footrest of the better-than-First Class seats.

Paul growled irritably.

"You're gonna wanna kill him," Jacob came back cryptically, cutting to the chase. "But we _need_ him, so I wanna know how you plan to deal with that shit."

"Which one?" Paul looked up with a searing gaze. "Jasper, or this _dog_?"

Jacob tipped his head with a tightlipped smile. "Take your pick."

Paul's nostrils flared dangerously.

Jacob forced himself to lower his gaze to where his middle finger was drawing a little circle on the armrest. "Jasper's gonna smell like her blood - he warned us of that," Jacob began in a murmur. "And this other guy-…" he finished in a hoarse whisper as he looked up from under his lashes. "Well, he killed her."

Paul's face blanched and his Adam's apple bobbed like he was struggling to swallow a golf ball.

"If _I'm_ having issues with that shit, then I can't imagine what it's like when she's your imprint."

Paul squeezed his eyes shut and he his shoulders fell. "She's not my imprint anymore," he breathed to his lap.

"Oh, fucking _bullshit_," Jacob snorted. He'd guessed that this was the root of some of the man's suffering and he certainly had enough suffering without worrying about _that_. "Without all the bullshit wolfy mumbo jumbo, do you love her any less?"

"**No**!" Paul hissed, his gaze snapping up to skewer Jacob with fire.

Jacob gave him a cool and casual 'no duh' raise to his brow. "You, of all people, know that I learned that shit the hard way," his gaze flitted to Leah who was still crashed out twenty feet away.

"Tell me the fuck about it," Paul snorted, glancing over to Leah and then snagging Jacob's gaze again with a little smirk. "You know why Bella _finally_ called you on the carpet?" he raised his lip, flashing his canines. "I was planning to _kill_ _you_ in your sleep on that fucking couch," he chuckled darkly.

Jacob couldn't tell if he was kidding.

"Whew! Glad she did, for several reasons then," he grinned with a humorously relieved expression. "It's an awesome couch, it woulda sucked to ruin it-…"

Paul groaned and hit his head on the chair several times in frustration.

Jacob chuckled at his expense. "That goat of yours is spending so much time in my yard, people're gonna start talkin'."

"Shit Jake!" Paul groaned.

Jacob snickered unrepentantly. He'd seen that little curve of humor in Paul's scowl. _Success_. Jacob had a few 'parlor tricks' of his own.

"But seriously, dude," Jacob leaned forward, letting his feet down on either side of the footrest. "You' seen me go through all this shit about imprints and mates and crap. That's the _last_ of your worries," he pressed sincerely.

With a whooshing breath, Paul fell over his thighs. "You're right," he sighed, fisting his hands in his short hair. "I just- …I can't _stand_ it, Jake. She's already been through so much- …I-…" he stammered, his tongue tripping over agony.

"What can I do?" Jacob asked quietly.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Paul leaned his forearms on his thighs as he let his head hang for a moment. "Well for one, you can fucking keep that blue-blooded Alpha shit to yourself," he hissed looking up with glittering eyes. "It makes my crazy when you try to pull that fuckin' Command stuff when it comes to her."

"'Kay. I can do that," Jacob nodded once. "It's not like it fucking _works_ on you anyway."

"Sometimes it does," Paul capitulated in a whisper so low that both of them could pretend he hadn't said it.

Paul rubbed his face briskly. "I _am_ gonna need your help, Jake," he admitted in a mumble to his palms. "You're gonna have to keep _your_ head, 'cause I dunno if I can keep mine," he looked up with tormented eyes. "Just _remind_ me… _tell_ me she needs these fuckers alive if we're gonna find her and fix her," he passionately petitioned.

Jacob nodded soberly like he was taking a blood oath. Because he was.

"And if that don't work, jus' throw Brady at me," Paul added with an attempt at his signature smirk.

It looked dried and withered, like a raisin.

Jacob's gaze darted to where Brady was Phased, sprawled over his mate Kai. The large Polynesian man was sacked out and drooling on the floor with an arm thrown over his Wolf's neck.

"You think it was a good decision to bring Kai?" Jacob asked softly. Jacob was glad Brady – an omega wolf - had decided to come; he balanced the aggression of the Pack and its dominants. Conceding on letting his mate join the group seemed a fair enough trade-off.

Paul snorted. "I think if we _hadn't_ brought the _Aloha_ _Princess _along we'd a' never heard the end of it from his whiny Hawaiian ass," Paul spat, referencing Kai's infamous bullheaded determination, couched in flamboyant affability as it was.

"Yeah, plus Brady would've gone nuts being trapped with all of us fuckers and our anger issues," Jacob mused wisely.

"I've never had an issue with my anger," Paul's lips hitched up on a bitter side. "That's _your_ fucking problem."

'

* * *

><p>'<p>

Paul jerked the van into the driveway of the old farm-house-turned-timeshare that Jasper had rented on the edge of town.

Throwing the door open, and not even bothering to cut the engine in his aggravation, he jumped to the gravel. The foggy wee hours were hemmed by crickets and syncopated by the drone of bullfrogs in a nearby pond. Paul stalked toward the stone structure.

He'd officially had enough: enough airplanes, enough stinking human crowds, enough nervous Pack chatter, enough driving on the wrong side of dark roads through bumfuck nowhere …

Enough _waiting_.

"Paul, wait!"

He heard Jacob's warning call over the harsh grinding of his teeth as he took the seven front steps in one giant leap and pushed through the entryway, punctuated by the slam of each of the double doors into the wall inside.

_No more waiting._

His breath rasping harshly through his teeth, Paul paused in the large room, moodily lit by a single lamp in the corner that cast deep shadows up to the sloping ceiling and exposed rafters. There, on the far side, staring out the French doors overlooking the black early morning, was Jasper.

The scent hit him like a ton of bricks: the cloying saccharine of leech laced with the distinct undertones of _rotting wildflower honey_. Bella's blood.

With a bellow of rage, Paul lunged, haphazardly throwing the heavy oak table from his path that ran the length of the room.

Jasper turned around in slow motion –a moment of transparent anguish shining in his eyes - as Paul threw his first punch. The deafening crack of the impact of his fist against jaw was fringed with the shattering of glass as Jasper's body crashed through the door and out onto the back porch, careening into the heavy wooden railing beyond.

Paul pounced after him.

"_You heart-less, glitter-assed, cock-sucking_…" He snarled a foaming string of increasingly vulgar curses, each syllable accentuated by the thud of punishing hit after hit to Jasper's face, snapping it to and fro. Paul's knuckles split and sprayed blood in his relentless pounding.

But Jasper took it.

Somehow his passivity just further enraged Paul's wolf. Pushing off the ground, he ripped his prey up from the floor.

"Fuckin' FIGHT!" he bellowed as he threw the inert figure across the wrap-around porch. Diving after him, he slammed Jasper up against the outside stone wall with enough force that the house shook to its foundation. Pinning him with his forearm, he bared his teeth with a murderous roar as his Wolf fought to claw its way out.

_He was gonna tear this thing apart with his teeth, and he was gonna do it __human__, shred every last fucking-…_

"Paul, stop," a dusky whisper soothed right beside his ear.

Paul grimaced as his breath heaved through his teeth, spraying foaming spittle across Jasper's shattered alabaster face (which was eerily mending itself before his very eyes).

_Fuck_.

All the forewarning, all those miles of mantras, all that self-berating hadn't done shit. Here he was, his control hanging by a tenuous thread.

He'd lost it. _Again_.

Paul gasped, fighting with the murderous instinct to avenge his wife, to punish the _thing_ that had not only put her on the path that lead to her destruction, but with the delusional breadcrumbs that in doing so she would be protecting…

…_him_.

Long, guitarist's fingers slipped over Paul's shoulder with an odd coolness that made the fires of his rage sizzle. Brady's "parlor tricks" just might be more astonishing than yesterday's magical display.

"_Bella_ needs you," Brady murmured quietly. "_You_ need _him_."

_Bella._

Paul shook his head, desperately trying to clear the red rage from his vision, as his lips pulled back rhythmically from grinding teeth. Panting hard, Paul sneered hatefully at the blood spattered leech who'd lowered his gaze. The thing's lips curved in the ghost of an impudent smile at Paul's expense.

_Double fuck_.

" 'Kay, I got this." Paul closed his eyes for a moment, gulping air through his mouth to mute the stench. "I got this," Paul gasped, pushing himself roughly away from the wall and turning his back as his bloody hands raked through his hair and he doubled over.

Braced over his thighs, for several minutes Paul's breath rolled across the porch along with the fog as he desperately fought the all-consuming despair that was making the muscles slither and jerk under his skin.

Gulping in a deep breath, finally he straightened and turned around.

Jasper had wiped the crimson streaks from his face and was leaning casually against the wall, watching him with that snide raise to his brow.

"_Don't fucking look at me like that_," Paul warned, as his hands curled into fists at his side.

Jasper cocked his head as his lips hitched up on one side. "How should I look a you?" he quipped impertinently.

An antagonized snarl tore from Paul's lips as he took a step toward him.

Jacob immediately appeared between them, with a staying hand on Paul's chest. "Alright, _Assper_," Jacob admonished, his sarcastic moniker bent on soothing Paul's Wolf. "Enougha that shit."

"It's so hard to resist," Jasper mumbled blandly out of the side of his mouth.

"Get inside asshole!" Jacob boomed, jerking his head toward the ruined door.

With a final provocative smirk over Jacob's shoulder– that made Paul flash his canines with a warning rumble – Jasper turned and strode back into the house.

"Shit," Jacob glanced at Paul with an eye-roll.

What Jacob couldn't hide was the fact that he'd wanted to recklessly join him oh so very much. Oh, Jake tried to be all la-la cool and easy going, but he was just a little more imperious than he'd like to admit. Paul would bet he'd have to own up to that fact just a little sooner than he was planning on this quest of theirs through hell. Bella was _closer_ than a sister to him, and, while Jacob was good at holding others together, he wasn't so good when he had to do the same for himself.

While it certainly didn't look like it, Jacob was the one with real anger issues. Paul accepted himself for the raging beast he was.

He gave his Alpha a knowing smirk.

Jacob's eyes narrowed irritably. "Lemme talk to that fucker, and we can get going," he grumbled, trailing after the leech.

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, drawing in a cooling breath as he backed up to lean on the railing. The rest of the Pack, who'd followed the chaos through the house, were standing – a safe distance away – on the other side of the porch.

"Well _that_ went well," Embry murmured under his breath, punctuating his sarcasm with a pop of gum as he leaned against a supporting beam.

As if the hours of his loud-ass smacking in the van hadn't been insult enough.

"I'm gonna rip that fuckin' gum out of your mouth along with your _tongue_," Paul hissed as he briskly rubbed his face.

"Give it up, asswipe!" Leah cuffed Embry on the back of his head with a resounding crack, catching his gum in her hand when it was jettisoned by his cough. "I'm getting pretty damn sick of it myself," she snarled, lobbing it out into the grass.

"Ew!" Quil shuddered melodramatically. "I wouldn'ta touched that…"

With lightning reflexes, Leah promptly lunged and wiped her hand down his face with a brilliant smile as he squealed.

"Hey, where's Kai?" Embry asked suddenly.

"I asked him to wait in the car," Brady returned quietly from where he was leaning against the house.

Paul looked up and met Brady's sensitive stare. "Get him situated. We're leaving in a minute, and you're coming with," he directed in the clipped, no-nonsense tone he used whenever he had to lead.

With a dutiful nod, Brady jogged lightly down the porch steps and around the house through the swirling mists.

Paul turned to Leah's expectant gaze.

"Want me to keep these clowns outta trouble?" she asked, raking a thumb over her shoulder. Beneath her roughhouse façade, that shrewd mind of hers was always several steps ahead.

"Think you can handle it?" Paul joked half-heartedly, throwing in a commiserating eye-roll and doing his best to keep the mood light for his Pack mates.

Underneath their adolescent antics lurked anxiety… and _fear_. He could smell it.

"Yup. If they gimme any trouble, I'll just have Kai sit on 'em," she turned and gave Quil and Embry a saccharine smile.

With a curt nod, Paul pushed off the railing and trudged toward the door.

"Good luck," Leah called quietly.

Paul turned to see three sets of now-somber eyes staring after him, their rowdy facade instantly dissolved in the worry that had been eating them all hollow since Bella left.

"Thanks," Paul whispered as he turned back to the house.

Squaring his shoulders, Paul stalked into the huge 'great room.' Jacob was leaning against the overturned table, his arms crossed sternly over his chest as he listened to whatever Jasper, perched on the back of a large sofa, was telling him.

Both men turned toward Paul as he entered.

Jacob uncrossed his arms. "So Jasper's been combing both the town and countryside yesterday and all night with no luck," Jacob related choppily, worry bleeding through his resonant Alpha bass.

"We're goin' after the fucking _dog_," Paul snarled not even pausing in his stride across the room. "_Now_."

He stopped two feet from Jasper, who gave him a weary attempt at a grin from where he was leaning over his thighs, his feet on the seat of the couch.

"Map," Paul bit out, holding out his hand. He wasn't without appreciation for what it must have cost Jasper's machismo to have yielded like he had, but the best Paul could offer this uneasy truce was harsh, monosyllabic dialog… and the control it took to simply let him live.

_Or whatever he did._

Jasper's lips pursed as he snatched his phone crisply from his pocket, scrolled through several screens, and then slapped the device in Paul's hand.

Paul glanced at it long enough to capture the detail, and then tossed it casually over his shoulder as he turned.

Jasper caught it in his fist with a petulant growl.

"Let's go," Paul hissed to Jacob, ignoring him. "It's you, me and Brady…"

He turned on his heel at the front door and aimed a glittering smile at where Jasper sat stiffly on the back of the couch. "And _the leech_."

Jasper huffed with an eye roll. "I can't help but think that's gonna make for a _counterproductive_ conversation," he drawled. "That berserker's gonna go an' try to tear me to shreds…"

"And that's something I _really_ wanna see," Paul chuckled with relish.

"Ah," Jasper's sharp mind got the double entendre as he sprang from the couch in one lithe move. "If Bella's one of 'em now, we gotta know what we're up against," he murmured from an appreciative smile.

"Yep, there's that too," Paul smirked and he yanked open the door. "C'mon."

'

* * *

><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	14. Uneasy Alliances

_Hey chicas. Thanks for the notes – they totally rock my week. Since we're into the weekend I'll hit you back for this chap. I want to during the week too, but work is a long, tiring thing. Since everyone was stressed with the last chapter's angst, I thought you'd appreciate me using my meager time to get the next one up._

_'_

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

'

'

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Uneasy Alliances<strong>

* * *

><p>'<p>

'

A dog's bark echoed throughout the languishing neighborhood of North Knighton. Glancing down the street in both directions, Paul was as subtle as he could be about pushing his shoulder against the seam of the shop door.

_Old Things: Antiques & Curios … 'Sorry, we're closed.'_

Paul didn't care that the sun still had two hours yet to rise: shops – or doors for that matter – simply couldn't be 'closed.' Not when Bella had been missing for going on thirty hours.

The wood door splintered at the bolt with a quiet groan, and Paul pushed it open. A little bell tinkled with the building's exhale and he lifted his nose to the air: the dank must of age and neglect swirled thick with the pungent stink of human male…and the tang of dried blood.

_Bella's blood._

Paul's hand reflexively covered his nose as he swayed on his feet and Jacob put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"He's here," Paul whispered hoarsely – and needlessly, the other three shared his senses – as he stepped into the shop.

Paul's gaze swept the chaos of clutter and detritus that was piled high to the ceiling of the dingy room as Jacob, Brady and Jasper slipped in behind him. Furniture, knickknacks and everything in between were crammed in every corner, but a quick scan told him the room was… empty.

"Jaz, stay here like I said," Paul murmured distractedly out of the side of his mouth as Jasper closed the door behind him with, reaching up to silence the bell. Paul stooped to pull off each sneaker, tossing them carelessly to the side and then crept forward with whisper footfall, lifting his nose and following the stench through the room while Jacob and Brady silently followed.

As he neared a door at the back of the room, Paul's eyes washed over several bookshelves, crammed with an anonymous array of leather bound volumes. Pausing, he snatched up a heavy marble book end from one of the mahogany shelves and turned, tossing it to Jacob's lightning reflexes.

"Just hold it for me," Paul whispered to Jacob's quizzical gaze.

Standing to the side of the door, the other two following suit, Paul's fingers slipped around the handle of the door, silently testing the knob. With a flourish he pushed it open.

_Nothing_.

Except an intensified wash of the male's scent and Bella's blood.

And a cloying overlay of despair.

Paul wrinkled his nose as he slunk forward into the dark and decimated kitchen. It was utterly silent except for the soft chugging hum of a refrigerator in the corner.

Cabinets had been ripped away and lay in twisted heaps of metal and shards of porcelain. The wall had been battered and pieces of a shredded calendar were strewn over the floor. Paul's photographic memory captured the scene with a visceral click and he closed his eyes softly, imagining Bella sitting in the reconstructed room she had described – quite accurately – to Jasper.

She had said there were _two_ doors. He glanced at the one that was hanging halfway on its hinges and the other, stoically closed.

With a meaningful glance behind him, Paul crept toward the open doorway and stole down the long narrow hall. Several small rooms lay off of it: one of them a bedroom that look like a tornado had hit it, the chaos strewn across to the study beyond.

"Paul," Jacob's whisper called from the kitchen.

In a heartbeat Paul was standing beside him.

Brady was sniffing at the cracks of the closed doorway. "Basement," he mouthed turning to look for direction.

Nodding, Paul motioned them away. Turning the knob, he pulled the door open a millimeter and the hinges squeaked. Grimacing, he supported the weight of the door with the handle and his bare foot as he pulled it silently open.

A long steep staircase descended down into the gloom.

"Wait," he breathed over his shoulder to his two Packmates and then crept down ahead of them.

He slunk silently down the wooden steps into a low, expansive basement. The scent of the man nearly stung his nose and Paul paused on the last step, his preternatural eyes scrabbling for even the smallest glimmer of light to use. Craning his neck he heard the sound of soft, hitching breath and a heartbeat thudding slow through the darkness. His hand fumbled along the wall for a switch and found what it was looking for.

Drawing in a quiet breath, Paul flipped it up and sprang into the room in one fluid movement.

A single bare bulb flickered on, illuminating a dank cement room that ran the entire length and width of the building. In the far corner was a pile of broken furniture and –…

"You must be the _Big Bad Wolf_," a mocking voice drawled with a British lilt.

Paul whipped around and saw a man, sitting on a table against the far wall of a second room through a prison door.

With a roar, Paul lunged forward, wrapping each fist around a bar. "_Where is she_!" he snarled as he rattled the reinforced steel.

Steel that was plated with tarnished silver.

The man - obviously the Gray Mocker - perched in utter unconcern on a stainless steel table that one might find in a vet's office, had one foot tucked under him, the other dangling free. He was utterly unremarkable: thin, lanky and dressed in a black teeshirt and dark jeans. Clothes that were stained with expansive shadows of dried incriminating blood.

_Bella's blood._

An enraged snarl lifted Paul's lips from his canines.

"My, what big teeth you have," he crooned with a saccharine smile as his gaze fell back, unconcerned, to where he continued to polish the pointed boot in his lap.

Paul growled threateningly as he tested the bars again, he could probably –…

"The fastening's right there on the outside," the man murmured with an insulting chuckle at Paul's expense.

Paul's gaze dipped down to the steel latch on the outside of bars that were spaced just far apart enough for a man to reach through without touching them, he suddenly realized.

"Jake," Paul thrust his hand behind him to where he'd heard Jacob and Brady hustle in at the commotion.

Jacob hefted the bookend into his hand as he glared at the man who was still buffing his damn shoe.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've ruined a pair?" he was murmuring with woefully to the boot in his hand as Paul turned the hefty latch. The bolts groaned free from the frame.

Paul stalked into the room as his gaze keenly washed over the dreary interior. The table the man sat on had the marks of mauling and one leg of the solid structure had obviously been gnawed on. Only about 20 by 20 feet, there were clawing gashes in the gypsum that revealed a network of similar bars set into the wall. It was actuality nothing more than a huge, partially finished cage.

"The clothes shredded too, of course - lucky I carry a spare in the car," the man had been babbling on and now glanced down at his gruesomely stained outfit. "But the _boots_...I'd had that pair for…" he paused and his light, grey eyes swept the ceiling with annoying-as-shit histrionics. "Oh, longer than I can remem-…"

"Shut the fuck up," Paul snapped as he tossed the bookend idly up and down in his hand.

The man met his gaze and a tight-lipped smile stretched his broad mouth taut. "So, you must be looking for little Red Riding Hood, eh?"

Paul's lethal gaze seared a hole straight though his sorry ass, unamused.

"And you call yourself a _wolf_," the man disparaged as he continued with asinine gall. "Tell me, how is it that _a wolf_ let's his little bitch out of its sight long enough to wander –…"

With no warning, Paul hauled his arm back and hurled the heavy bookend in a wicked pitch right for the man's head.

And Paul watched.

At the lightning reflexes that abandoned the shoe to intercept it… at the way he redirected it past his body… at the half inch or so that his hand rebounded with the vicious force of the projectile.

Paul lips hitched up along with the opposite brow in his signature smirk.

"If you've come to throw the Fae's book at me, you've hopelessly bungled that too," the man laughed derisively as he tossed the marble bookend to the floor with a heavy thud.

"Nope," Paul chuckled darkly as he stripped off his shirt in one smooth movement and tossed it out the door. "That tells me all I need to know." He cracked his knuckles as he rolled his shoulders, his battle focus narrowing to a pinpoint.

"And what's that?" The Wolf raised a supercilious brow.

"That I'm stronger than you," Paul snarled as he pounced.

The man was snatched out of mid-air in his pitiful attempt at evasion. Paul moved with the pounding hammer of the man's elbow in his ribs and threw him into the wall with a thunderous crash. He was unnaturally dense and heavy for his size, Paul noted idly as plaster sifted down over both of them. With a hateful bellow, he ripped the man up by the back of the neck, wrapping an arm around his midsection Paul slammed him into the table face first.

Over and over until blood finally splattered across the mangled stainless steel.

Throwing him from his grasp with just enough force to dent - but not pulverize - the sheetrock of the wall, Paul lunged after him and pinned him with his hand at the man's gangly throat.

"Brady…" he heard Jacob's tense whisper.

"Naw, I'm good Jake," Paul called quietly as his gaze washed over the man's craggy, ruined face inches before him. "I'm so, _so_ good," he murmured around a frighteningly cold smile.

The man's lupine growl rumbled under his grip, his hand uselessly swiping at Paul's wrist.

Paul squeezed his throat harder and his lips peeled back in a feral snarl as the Were's face contorted in pain. Strange, utterly gray eyes popped open to bore spitefully into where Paul was carefully watching how fast the damage to his face was healing.

With a gulping swallow, the man struggled to reconstruct a dispassionate façade. "So you're going to kill me," he choked.

"Oh, most definitely," Paul breathed with a slow smile of delight.

"Good," the man gasped as Paul's thumb crushed his Adam's apple. "Better you than the Fae. 'Should be any day now. Didn't even bother to change my clothes."

"In fact, you'll be wishing for death before I'm done with you…" Paul paused cocking his head as his gaze darted to the crushed cheekbone that was mending at approximately the same rate as his own kind. "But not before you tell me where she is," he hissed.

Those grey eyes narrowed with hateful derision. "She's _dead_," he spat as his lip lifted up in a sneer.

With a roar, Paul lifted him up from the wall and slammed him into the floor, crouching over him with his knee to the man's chest, one hand grasping his shoulder, the other dancing on crushing his jaw.

"I_ know _that_, _muthafucker," Paul ground out hatefully through his clenched teeth. "But what I wanna know…" he leaned down close over his prey as his own Wolf flailed and shredded his insides to ribbons. "Is she _Changed_."

The man froze for a moment, his eyes darting between Paul's as he swallowed, the derisive façade slipping lax from a core that was infinitely more complex… and damaged. Lowering his gaze the man licked his lips.

"Yes," he whispered.

Paul felt his heart balloon in his chest with such force that it expelled the air in his lungs with a lupine whine.

"And such a fate is far too cruel, even for such a treacherous little bitch," the man continued in an agonized murmur. The man blinked rapidly as he swallowed. " 'Came in here with those tearing _puppy dog_ eyes," he sniffed a disparaging laugh. "... killing me softly with fraudulent kindness."

Paul lifted his lip and bared his teeth with an infuriated snarl as his Wolf reared its head, craving to simply end the life of the cretin not six inches from its jaws.

The man's eyes snapped back to Paul's and he reclaimed his arrogant veneer. "I did you a favor, you know," his lips hitched up in a sardonic smile. "Did you know she has a _new_ plaything now? A _vampire boyfriend_?" he hissed as if he were tattling.

A genuine laugh burst from Paul's lips. "_Jasper_?"

"I saw her kiss him," he raised his brow snidely.

"Where?" Paul continued to chuckle.

"The Pub," he came back pertly.

Paul rolled his eyes. "On the mouth?" he asked with a mocking raise to his brow as if he were catching a child in lie.

The man's gaze dipped to the floor and Paul's chuckles turned to ridicule.

"She let him drink her blood!" the man pressed incredulously.

Paul nodded his head with exaggerated commiseration as he readjusted his grip on the man and reached toward his pocket with the hand not holding his jaw in a vise.

"Jasper had his own agenda probably," Paul bit out darkly. "But for Bella it was just part a' the show she had to put on... an' _you fell for it_," Paul condescended with a smirk.

He wasn't blind to Jasper's infatuation, but he knew Bella better probably than he knew himself. He'd take care of Jasper soon enough, but he had nothing but an unshakable confidence in his mate.

"See," Paul smacked his lips with an exaggerated storyteller's tone. "Aro thinks Jasper's her mate." Paul pulled out a small spoon from his pocket and twirled it idly around his fingers as he continued. " 'Cause he can't see our kind with his juju shit…and Jasper was there…" Paul snapped forward, all theatrics evaporating in his seething rage. "…when _**I **__murdered that muthaucker_ Edward. He thinks Jasper did it and is her mate."

Those grey eyes went wide as understanding crept over his features…followed by horror.

"_Get it?"_ Paul bit out disparagingly. Sitting back up, he closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing down acidic bile as he desperately fought to tamp down the beast that was railing within.

Finally, he drew in a long cooling breath. "Alright," he crooned with a fraudulent calm. "You're gonna tell me _exactly_ what happened," he murmured, holding up the spoon with a cock to his head. "And look, I brought you little souvenir to bribe you with," Paul piped mockingly.

His gaze darted over the small silver-plated collector's teaspoon whose stem was etched with 'London' and crested with Queen's coat of arms. "I figured since you're a Brit you like tea, right?" he taunted, his eyes snapping back to the man with a questioning raise to his brow.

The man's gaze darted between the spoon and Paul's deadly eyes as he tested his grip with a frantic squirm.

Paul pressed him down harder into the floor and the man closed his eyes as he expelled a long slow breath.

"I mean, I'da _rather_ gotten you a knife… or maybe an _icepick_," Paul pursed his lips in exaggerated lament, imitating the man's theatrics. "But this is the only piece of silver-plated shit they sell at Heathrow."

He brought the spoon down to idly trace along his jawline and watched in morbid fascination as the spoon drew sizzling blisters along his cheek.

The man hissed in pain.

"But I figure, between these ribs here," he murmured slow and soft, enunciating each word as he snatched the spoon from the man's face and dug it into the right side of his chest over his shirt.

"With the right poundage of pressure," he fisted his hand over it as he continued in his hypnotic croon. "It'll be _almost_ as effective."

The Were's breath snagged, his lips trembling in a straight line of dread.

He leaned down beside the thing's ear. "_Talk_," he breathed.

The Were gulped and then licked his lips. "I-I didn't mean to," he admitted quietly. "I thought she was _playing_ me … that she'd found the _one thing_ I craved and used it against me: _hope_. Sh-she just made me so _angry_," his hoarse voice disintegrated in sorrow.

Paul sat up as his gaze darted intensely over the man's features, eyes closed and face pinched in regret.

"I-I hadn't lost it like that in-…" his words died on his lips.

Paul jabbed the spoon viciously into the man's chest and his grey eyes popped open, bulging, the pupils mere pinpoints.

"The Wolf _stopped_!" he rasped incredulously. "I don't know why… but I came to not long after in a pool of the girl's blood," he choked, swallowing his words in desolation. "Her corpse all twisted and ruined ... _I__ did that to that little girl_..," he bemoaned in a sorrowful whisper. "Just like… just-…"

Paul was desperately trying to keep his focus through his grief and the slow rising wrath of his Wolf that needed - no, _demanded_ - this man's life in vengeance.

"Is. She. Changed!" he boomed.

"Yes," the man cried hoarsely, his eyes wide and frantic as they stared unseeingly at memories parading before his eyes. "The Change started before my eyes while I sat naked in that alley," he whispered hollowly. "She suddenly drew breath and started screaming…choking on her own blood," he paused, his breath quick and shallow as his gaze refocused on Paul's lightening eyes.

"So I took her," he gulped quietly.

Paul pushed off the floor, jettisoning the spoon with an enraged roar. It pierced the gypsum with a tinny clang against the bars underneath.

"**WHERE**?!" he bellowed in a voice more animal than human. Doubling over, he fisted his hands in his hair as he bowed his head under the savage demands of his Wolf.

The man scrabbled back across the floor like and ungainly crab. "An hour south…," he choked quickly. "The Black Mountains."

Paul spun back on the man and snarled, stalking several steps toward menacingly.

"The Fae will know! They always know!" The man was babbling quickly as he scrambled back, pressing himself against the far wall. "She's Changing and they'll be here any day! They'd have killed her! In Brecon she has the best chance to survive…"

Paul froze, his heaving breath rasping through his nose like a bull.

"I took her to Brecon Beacons," the man gasped. "Over a thousand kilometers of mountains, moors and woodlands. You'll never find her… you can't track the Wolf, it has no scent."

"We'll find her," Paul growled low in his gullet as his lips peeled back from gnashing teeth. With a lightning lunge he ripped the man's body up off the floor. " 'Cause you're gonna help."

Snarling, he fisted one hand in the back of his hair, and slipped the other around his arm like a tourniquet.

The man veritably whimpered as he nodded his head minutely in Paul's grip. "I d-didn't meant to harm her. I never meant-…. I didn't know she was - …She was just so - … No one's ever-…" the man pitifully babbled on, as Paul dragged the man across the floor like a rag doll.

"You're such a fucking _idiot_," Paul hissed by his ear like a sword drawn from its scabbard. "JASPER!" he roared.

In a blink of eye, Jasper was down the stairs, with a glance at the other two, he met Paul's gaze with a warning raise to his brow, his gaze cutting toward Jacob.

For the first time Paul glanced up and shifted his attention to his Alpha.

Jacob was gulping breath like he was drowning from where he'd pushed himself back into a corner. His body was vibrating dangerously, his face was drawn in a dark grimace of loathing that Paul had never witnessed on the Pack's infamously even-keeled leader. Those imperious cracks in his bravado were finally making a show.

But it wasn't exactly good timing.

Paul's gaze darted to Brady, whose wide-eyed attention was torn between his Alpha and the dangerous game being played before him. He'd never seen his Alpha so close to losing it. None of them had.

"Brady," Paul hissed with a jerk to his chin. Jacob was so far gone he didn't even register Paul's directive as his lips peeled back from his teeth and his eyes myopically seared a hole through the man in Paul's grasp.

But when Brady sidled up and collegially bumped shoulders with him, Jacob whipped on the man with a murderous snarl.

Brady's eyes lowered but he held his ground with his quiet strength.

Jacob expelled a breath of understanding as he rubbed his face and Paul snapped his head back in the game.

With that disaster averted, Paul turned his gaze to Jasper.

"C'mere," Paul jerked his head toward the leech.

"Stop!" he barked as soon as Jasper was standing just inside the doorway.

The Were in his grip had begun to tremor violently in the quick few seconds it had taken for Paul to run that bit of interference with his Alpha.

Paul's eyes cut over to where his face was a mask of horror: eyes open wide, pupils contracted, nostrils flared… lips flexing back from teeth in a silent snarl.

"Do you see what I see, _fucker_?" Paul murmured as a low growl began in the man's gut and he tried to twist out of Paul's grasp.

"What do you _see_?!" Paul wrenched his head back and aimed his face toward the vampire staring them down. "A cold, rotting corpse that plays dress up? A parasite that fucking charms its way close enough to suck you dry? An arrogant, rich sonofabitch who thinks it _owns the fucking world?"_

He met Jasper's long-suffering stare, his nostrils flared urbanely and mouth quirked in a wry smirk of annoyance.

"Well, _Bella_," Paul leaned in close and snarled in the man's ear, holding Jasper's gaze. _"_Bella saw_ a person. _Just a fuckin' victim of fate doing the best he could."

Paul's breath was coming harsh and uneven as he hauled the man around to face him. "And she did the same for _me_," he hissed.

Pausing for a moment, Paul's eyes fluttered as he rode the emotional wave that surged with those words, then his lips peeled back in a derisive sneer_. "And did the same for you_, muthafucker."

The man's eyes were rolling his head with a poignant mix of sorrow and feral delirium. The growls were slowly making their way up his throat and his body began convulsing against Paul's grasp.

Paul threw the man into a heap on the floor. "_Change_, fucker. That wolf and mine need a little one-on-one," he snarled as he took several steps back.

The man scrabbled away from where Jasper – his expression considerably less contentious – was staring at the Were whose body was beginning to jerk and seize.

Paul unbuttoned his jeans as he trained his focus on the Were beginning to convulse before him, cries of agony gurgling up from around growls like a rolling boil.

Slipping out of his pants, Paul tossed them through the door. "Get out and close it," Paul barked \ at Jasper, his gaze trained on the suffering before him. The barred gate closed with a resounding clunk.

The man was still pushing himself away from the door in the epitome of conflict: wild eyes trained on the Jasper, growls turning over his breathy whimpers, and his head shaking back and forth as if trying to resist.

It was taking _so long_… he hadn't even started metamorphosing.

"Growl or somethin'," Paul admonished the vampire with a flick of his wrist.

The blood-curling hiss from Jasper's bared teeth made all three Wolves instinctively turn on him with snarls as they dropped to an aggressive crouch.

An answering bellow of human agony was followed by the sickening sound of rending flesh and Paul whipped around to see a brief flash of the man's contortions. The screams of pain shattered into animalistic growls and in less than a second, a grey wolf pushed up to its haunches from a nest of shredded clothes.

Paul's attention snapped with intensity to the beast as it crouched menacingly, its ears back. It was larger than a normal wolf, but not by much, and it's fur was sleek and shining instead of the buff softness of his own pelt. There was no awareness in those flashing eyes, only pure savagery that made the hairs prickle in warning on the back of his neck. But what piqued the interest of his battle focus was the cagey power to its sinewy muscles as it swayed on its haunches, casing his enemy.

The animal was _strong_.

Paul crouched, circling slowly along the wall, watching the way the animal's its teeth peeled back ferociously from gleaming teeth as it followed his every movement. It would be fast too – with those long legs and lean body; its advantage over his own animal – or any other - would be agility and speed. The Wolf in him had to admire the beast: it was majestically wild and beautiful in a very raw kind of way.

Yet for all the stories and tales, it still was innately a pack animal – not some mindless berserker – because otherwise it surely would have already attacked. It could indubitably scent Paul's Wolf and was trying to assess dominance.

Of course, Paul didn't have to try, he _knew_.

"So, _pup_," Paul crooned in a deep, velvet voice and watched the animal's eyes narrow and the muscles bunch up in its back as it prepared to spring. "Ready for your lesson?"

With no more preamble than that, Paul fell forward and his Wolf burst gleefully free with a deafening roar. Stretching its claws out as it went into an immediately aggressive crouch, yellow eyes seared the animal before it with blistering hate and its muzzle crinkled in a snarl at the scent of its mate's blood.

The Werewolf's grey eyes had gone wide from where it was hunkered down to the floor in surprise.

Nearly twice its size, Paul's Wolf took several menacing steps forward, tossing its muzzle in the air in confusion at the prey's lack of scent. _This_ was the beast that had killed its mate – the Wolf _knew_. Lowering its head in fury, the Wolf pressed its ears back as a murderous growl tore from its muzzle.

And then it pounced.

The Were met it in mid-air, facing the strike head on and then nimbly feinting left in a lightning twist. With a bellow of wrath, the Wolf turned agilely in the small space and lunged again with snapping jaws. This time it caught the Were in its pounce and in a lightning tumble of mauling claw, the two foes battled, snarls and howls rolling along with them across the floor.

And it _was_ strong.

The Were extricated itself, slipping out from under the Wolf's weight with spry athleticism and leaped up to the ruined table using the height to leverage a pounce on the Wolf's back, biting with bared canines.

With an incensed howl, the Wolf twisted and threw its body against the wall with a crash, dislodging the animal in the tumbling chunks of plaster. With a whimper of pain from the silver-plated bars in the wall, the Were bounced across the floor from the impact, landing in a heap in the corner. If not for the close quarters, it could use that strength with its speed and it would be a deadly enemy indeed.

The Wolf crouched low, as it crept toward the Were who twisted up onto its feet.

The Wolf faced down its foe with a foaming muzzle, tucking its head and _demanding_ submission to its dominance.

_Before it went for the kill._

The Were crouched lower to the ground with a petulant snarl, rebelliously trying to look its foe in the eye even as its spine rounded and tail tucked between its hind quarters as it back up against the wall. It was an innate posture of reluctant surrender.

And it wasn't good enough.

The Wolf pushed off the ground with powerful legs and the Were again defensively met the offense in mid-air. They rolled once across the floor as the Wolf dexterously got into position. As soon as its jaw was at the ruff of the other's neck, it tore the beast up off the floor. The Were yipped and howled in both fear and pain as the Wolf violently shook the beast in steel jaws.

Paul was struggling with every last fiber of his being to hold the reigns of his beast. It was running on murderous rage and vengeance: an imperative to _kill_.

But _Paul_ needed the Werewolf alive. _Bella_ needed it.

With everything he had, Paul forced his Wolf to release the beast, throwing it across the room with an ear-splitting boom.

The Were didn't get up again.

The Wolf prowled back and forth, guttural snarls tearing from foaming lips, its eyes searing a hole at where its prey lay in a jumbled heap on the floor. It paced restlessly like the caged animal it was – railing against Paul's domineering control.

Stunned, the other animal lay panting where it had landed for several moments then, slowly, it twisted up to hunched haunches with a pitiful whimper, instinctively imitating the cry of a chastised cub.

The Wolf froze, only marginally appeased by its brethren's surrender. It growled in warning and the beast cowered, its tail tucking under its quivering hind quarters, eyes deferentially averted.

Its submission soothed the Wolf enough that Paul could resurface from his tenuous hold on instinct. As the Wolf prowled back and forth with fractious snarls rolling from its muzzle, Paul turned his attention to the Were, using his Wolf's preternatural senses.

He could _sense_ it, like he could wolves in the wild: its thoughts and feelings swirling in a shadowy tumble. But there _was_ an unnatural intelligence behind those animalistic eyes. With its submission, the instinctual rage had recede enough to reveal a blistering pain. This was a beast that, in centuries of isolation and condemnation, both hunted and hated, and with no socializing order, had simply gone raging, feral and wild.

Paul congealed into his human form with a snap.

The Were growled low and Paul bared his canines with a vicious answering snarl.

The animal cowered and averted its eyes with a peevish rumble

Briskly running his hands through his hair, Paul backed up slowly toward the door as it was opened for him with the groan of metal. Wrinkling his nose in a final silent warning snarl, Paul slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

The beast lunged for the doorway, and Paul roared through the bars, letting his Wolf resurface enough to heat his eyes. The Were froze and cowered with a whine again on submissive haunches.

With a satisfied smirk, Paul turned to the others in the room.

"There's no balance. No connection between the wolf and the man," Paul hissed over his heaving breath, both to himself and the room as he stooped to pick up his jeans. "But there _could_ be," he gasped as he shoved a leg in his pants. "Just think what've happened with Sam if he had no stories or tribe... or Pack."

There were several moments of poignant silence between the four of them, hemmed by irritable growls from the cage beside them as Paul pulled up his jeans and buttoned up the fly.

"Jaz, mind takin' a walk so this asshole can cool off?" Paul asked snidely, turning to where the vampire was leaning against the wall with his usual saucy smirk.

"I feel like I shoulda paid money to watch that or somethin'," Jasper murmured slyly with an appreciative raise to his brow. "Better than damn cable MMA, that's for shore."

Paul rolled his eyes and jerked his chin toward the stairs.

Jasper turned, with his foot on the first step. "Even an inspiring speech an' all," he crooned shrewdly. "Didn't think you had it in you."

There was a different sort of acceptance of this uneasy alliance hidden in strange ochre eyes. Paul had done what Jasper probably never would have expected and something that went far beyond Jasper's earlier restraint as a peace offering: Paul had offered him – in his own way – _acceptance_.

Of course, Jasper knew it didn't mean he wouldn't kill him as soon as he got the chance. The two of them were good like that.

"You'll be getting an all-inclusive tour of what I got to offer, pretty fuckin' soon," Paul growled, baring his canines in a glittering smile

With a cocky smirk, Jasper nodded. "Lookin' forward to it," he chuckled darkly and then disappeared up the stairs.

Paul turned back to where Jacob was rubbing his face.

Looking up, Jacob squared his shoulders. "You did good," he murmured, his usually earnest eyes submerged under an unfathomable layer of conflicting emotion.

Paul nodded tersely. "At least we know we're immune to their venom," he grumbled, deflecting the compliment and Jacob's covert self-berating as he craned his neck over his shoulder at the burning bite on his back.

"C'mere," Jacob urged with a rough push of his shoulder, turning him around. His fingers danced lightly around the shallow wound. "But it's not healing as fast as it should."

"I'll go see if I can find a rag or somethin'," Brady offered in his dusky voice.

Jacob turned with bisk nod of assent and the man bounded silently up the stairs.

Paul turned back to Jacob. "It's coming on sun-up, we gotta go find her... _now_." His tense whisper spoke to the acidic worry that festered in both of them.

Paul glanced at where the Were was now lying on its side, its pained breath panting over a lolling tongue. "I don't think it'll be too long before fuckface joins us again. We'll get him to show us exactly where he dumped her," he cracked his knuckles, mentally willing the beast to hurry and Change.

Jacob wasn't listening.

He took two halting steps to the bars of the door and slowly wrapped each hand around them. "I woudn't of been able to do it," he breathed in a hollow whisper.

Expelling a low breath of empathy, Paul let his hands drop to his sides. In Jacob's uncharacteristic tone, he could hear all the self-self doubt and damage he kept so well hidden under that sunny confidence.

"All that fuckin' shit-talking on the plane…" his Alpha mused quietly to himself and then jerked his head around and met Paul's gaze with burning eyes, his hands clenching the bars with a white-knuckled grip. "I woulda killed him," he hissed darkly.

A slow smile blossomed over Paul's lips as he leaned against the outside wall of the cage and considered the boy growing into a man before his eyes.

"Y'know Jake? You an' me might not be so fuckin' different after all."

'

'

'

Paul smirked smugly as he kept his eyes on the road while fluently steering the van down the country road at a breakneck speed.

"Come now, this is _hardly_ necessary," the Grey Mocker sighed from the riding shotgun in the van. "I look foolish."

Jacob was kneeling between the two front seats, his muscled forearms propped up on each headrest and his gaze trained with dark hate on the Were. In fact, Paul was fairly certain that it was only Leah's haphazard arm thrown over his broad shoulders that was holding him together at all right now.

"Yeah, _you do_," his Alpha hissed with venom as he sneered pointedly up and down the Were's body.

The Were snorted with an eye roll as his hands struggled irritably with their make-shift – but very effective - binding.

"Oh, wait!" Jacob exclaimed theatrically. "You meant the _candlesticks_!"

With a puff of annoyance the man let his head fall back to the head rest.

Jacob's hand smacked him back forward with a cantankerous growl.

Paul cut his eyes over to the trussed Were sitting beside him and a low chuckle of pleasure bounced through the van.

He _did_ look stupid.

There were two silver candelabras in that farmhouse they were renting, and Paul had commandeered both: twisting each in an intricate – and very stupid-looking – knot around both the Were's wrists and ankles. Over a wrapping of cloth, of course.

Paul wasn't _that_ sadistic. Yet.

With the base sticking out at odd angles from the twisted mess of sterling, the Were looked like he'd had a run-in with a piece of modern art. And lost.

"Where am I going to go anyway?" the Were balked, _very_ foolishly continuing to babble on. "I _want_ to help the girl."

"_Shut the fuck up_," Paul hissed dangerously.

With a resigned sigh, the man glared over his shoulder at Jacob – who still occupied his headrest with a massive bicep and hateful stare – and then leaned his head against the open window.

All of the windows of the van were rolled down, to vent the pungent scent of fury and violence that emanated from the Pack's two most dominant wolves. To make this nightmare worse, the others were unsettled by Jacob's tenuous control – he was definitely growing into his inheritance by leaps and bounds – and every last one of them was similarly teetering on the edge of violence because of it.

Paul glanced in the review mirror at Jasper who trailed in his luxurious (of course) BMW. If they'd added leech-scent to this volatile mix, there was no way either Jasper or the Were would have made it to their destination in one piece.

Plus, the van was already filled past capacity. And every one of the Pack well-surpassed six feet in height: Jacob knelt in front with Leah crouched down beside him, Embry and Quil filled up the middle with their bulk and Brady sat in the back with Kai –himself six feet of generous body, making up the difference.

"Fuck all the wolf shit, what I don't get is how this dude has lived as long as he has with that big-assed mouth," Quil cackled conspiratorially to his seatmate and partner in crime. The innate anxiety in the van translated, unfortunately, into a restless rambunctiousness.

"Yeah…. Hey…what're we supposed to call you anyways?" Embry called from the back. "Mr. Mocker?" he laughed.

"Focker, more like it," Leah spat in a grumble from where she squatted beside Jacob.

"How 'bout Herr Gray?" Quil snickered. "Get it? Get it?"

"He's not German, dumbass," Embry snorted.

The Were sat up, glancing over his shoulder with an urbane toss of his eyes. "The humans in Knighton know me by Aiden Price."

"_That's_ kinda lame," Embry mumbled. "I mean, 'should be more woo-woo mysterious or somethin'-"

"**SHUT THE FUCK UP**!" Paul roared, having bankrupt his meager patience several miles back. "The next muthaucker who opens his Goddamn mouth gets my fist down his throat!" he snarled, glaring over his shoulder to punctuate the validity of such a claim. "And I'm NOT stopping the van to do it," he hissed as he returned his eyes to the road.

Catching Jasper's amused smirk in the side-view mirror, Paul bared his teeth petulantly and then leaned on the horn as he tore up to a slow-moving farm vehicle on the narrow road.

Spitting a string of irritable curses out of the side of his mouth, he careened off into the grassy shoulder to pass it, the full, heavy van swaying dangerously. Jerking the ungainly vehicle back onto the road, he floored the pedal and the pitiful V6 complained with a roar.

A throaty groan in the back had Paul's lip lifting in a sneer. "Quil," he growled low in his throat to the infamously weak-stomached younger Wolf. "If you fuckin' barf, you're SO gonna clean up every last drop of it up with your _tongue_." Paul glared in the rearview mirror and watched Quil clap a hand over his mouth with a queasy nod.

For several more miles the Pack rode the lurching sway of the van's furious pace while Paul tried to measure the rancor eating away at his stomach and clear his head for what came next.

"_Price_," he finally snarled out of the side of his mouth. "Tell me more about this Change. What's she gonna be like… _when_ we find her?"

_When_, not if.

Thirty seconds of silence had Paul frown at his passenger.

The Were was watching him with that damn insolent smile twisting lips that were pressed pointedly together.

Paul jerked his brows up in exasperation.

The Were's smirk broadened into a leer. "Is this some kind of trick?" he crooned spuriously. "Because I distinctly heard you say-…"

Paul's long arm promptly reached over and fisted into his long hair, slamming his face into the dashboard with an antagonized crack.

"**TALK**!" he boomed, returning his hand to the wheel and gripping it with white-knuckled fury.

"Well…" The Were shook his hair back from his face with an indignant clearing of his throat. "The Change begins slow, _cyclic_… waxing and waning like the tide chases the moon," he began, his voice descending to breathy and gaining dramatic momentum.

"_Details_," Paul cut short his histrionics as he turned and glared at the Were. "You' better make it quick or I'll beat it out of you with your _favorite spoon,_" he warned through gritted teeth. He didn't have patience _or_ time for this man's epic idiocy.

The Were blinked rapidly and licked his lips. "Every day after the night's Change, it's a long and rocky road back to sanity. For the first few weeks we garner only fleeting moments of human consciousness at the day's peak before the next slippery slope back into the madness of the Wolf," he hissed bitterly and then paused. "She's fortunate it's summer, there are nearly 16 hours of daylight in which she can recover before she again goes mad as evening falls. She should be at her best at the sun's highest, but after that, her mind and sentience will disintegrate … until her body again splits and she loses herself to the Wolf at nightfall. The process will gradually quicken, until the Change is finally completed on the full moon."

Paul glanced wordlessly at the man beside him as his mind raced." So you're telling me she's gonna be _human_ during the day, but she'll be _nuts_?" he rasped.

The Were nodded. "All but for perhaps a few hours at most - and you're fortunate there," he clarified in his pompous British lilt. "When _I _Changed it was over the dark days of a Norwegian winter and I had precious few moments of clarity," he added and turned to watch the scenery passing by.

"Whattay mean _'quicken_?'" Paul pressed, pulling the man from his musing.

The Were drew in a deep breath and turned to face him. "Both the transition during the day and the Change itself continue to accelerate, until, on the full moon, it's nearly instantaneous – as it stays and you've seen," he sneered petulantly, referencing the altercation a mere hour ago.

Paul turned and the Were's eyes flashed as he held his gaze. "But the Change on a full moon is horrifically violent," he intoned as an ominous caveat.

"Violent," Paul repeated numbly.

The Were rearranged himself in his seat and returned his eyes to the road ahead. "Very few survive the sheer agony of the Change itself – much less that first full moon. Over the weeks leading up to it, either their bodies simply surrender and their heart stops… or they go mad and basically eat themselves alive –…"

"WHAT!" Jacob and Paul gasped in unison, echoed by sharp intakes of horror pockmarking through the van.

The Were glanced over his shoulder at the van's passengers with an icy stoicism. "We don't heal supernaturally from wounds inflicted by another Were… including ourselves," he bit out. "This is what I've watched in my dreams for months now, courtesy or the illustrious Vladimir."

Paul was desperately trying to gulp air into his burning lungs.

It was Jacob, who was able to speak next. "So you got some kinda Pack mind?" he challenged, his voice gravelly and dangerous.

The Were's brow dipped as he turned to him. "Come again?"

"You have a kinda telepathic connection," Leah clarified quietly, squeezing Jacob's shoulder that had started to jerk and tremble under her hand.

"I suppose you could say that," the Were murmured as he cocked his head thoughtfully and turned back around, seeming oblivious to the imminent explosion behind him. "I could feel your girl last night – her confusion, the blistering burn of the Change, and frankly I'm shocked that little slip of a thing has lasted this long," he sniffed callously. "I'm forced to watch their suffering at night – even though I, myself, can now resist the moon's imperat-…"

"**AND YOU JUST LEFT HER!"** Jacob burst into the front with a savage growl, fisting both huge hands around the man's lanky throat.

Like lightning, Embry, Quil and Leah pounced forward, wrestling their Alpha back.

"**JAKE**!" Paul roared, as their leader flailed against their grappling and the van swerved from the pitching weight. "We gotta help _Bella_!" he boomed as ferocious snarls continued to boil their Alpha's lips.

At the utterance of her name, Jacob's body immediately seized, the growls drying up to petulant rumbles.

"**SHIT**!" Paul spat, shoving his hands through his hair in frustration. "We shoulda just tried to run it," he grumbled to himself.

They had opted to take the van because – even with satellite maps and Paul's photographic memory – it was tricky for the Wolves to negotiate the unfamiliar territory. And Paul hadn't wanted to waste a moment of precious time.

As Jacob panted heavily from the floor under the restraint of his Pack, Paul turned back to the Were sitting beside him. He was pitched forward over his knees, gasping against the dashboard.

"_C'mon Price._ TALK!" Paul urged in a warning snarl.

The Were pushed himself up with a disgruntled glare toward the back seat. "The closer you find her to nightfall – morning or afternoon – the less coherent she'll be," he gasped. "We can Change during the day, of course, if we're angered or meet one of your _friends_," he bit the word scornfully with a snarl into the side mirror at where Jasper still followed.

"Ain't no friend a' mine," Paul growled under his breath.

"But right now, as the Change overtakes her, she'll only be in human during daylight hours. Even so, she'll be running on instinct – as the animal insinuates itself into her persona – and more than likely…" the Were paused and his lips lifted ever so slightly at the corner. "She'll try to kill you."

The Were's smugness didn't even register on Paul's radar in his angst. He drew in a deep breath and his eyes fluttered closed at its apex. He couldn't even imagine fighting – or defending himself against - Bella.

"Will she be stronger?" he whispered, his battle acumen making a reluctant show.

"Not as strong as she'll be after it's complete, but yes," the Were provided matter-of-factly. "Faster, stronger… she's _no longer human_," he quipped callously.

Paul pushed his lips through his teeth–over and over – as his mind flitted over speculation and plan for several more miles of his breakneck pace. They passed a sign for the National Park and Paul blinked out of distraction, sitting up and rearranging himself in the seat.

"Can you get drunk?" he asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?" the Were came back, turning with an amused raise of his brow from where he'd been gazing out the passenger window.

"_Can you get drunk,"_ Paul repeated irritably, throwing a glare in his direction.

The Were cleared his throat. "Well, yes. I mean, it takes a good bit more than a human, but of course."

"Lucky," Paul hissed under his breath and a collection of five other envious exclamations joined in unplanned unison.

The Were glanced over his shoulder with an amused chuckle. "You can't?"

"'Metabolism's too high," Paul mumbled and then propped his arm on the door. "So maybe that shit Jasper brought's gonna work."

"What _'shit_,' pray tell?" the Were bit out the curse self-righteously.

Paul cut his eyes over with annoyance. "Some kinda drugs… tranquilizer, morphine."

"There's a clever chap," the Were pursed his lips with a nod. "I hadn't thought of that...the tranquilizer may work as long as it's not too close to the Change – but you may need an equine-dose," he chuckled to himself. "The pain killers though?" He shook his head with a bitter grimace. "I would be horribly offended if you didn't think I'd tried everything under the sun over the centuries to ease the pain - alchemy, herbology, drugs…_voodoo… anything_…"

"Nothin' works?" Paul's shoulders deflated.

With a cautionary glance over his shoulder at where Jacob now sat on the floor against the side of the van with his head on his knees, the Were leaned his head back against the headrest.

"Afraid not. Everything burns off as soon as the Change begins and it's anything …if not worse. 'A shock to the system after the _bliss of oblivion_," he murmured in a bitter sing-song tone. "And in the case of such things as liquor or morphine, if I become too inebriated after sundown, I lose my control and Change anyways." The Were laughed humorlessly. "It's probably the only deterrent I've had to becoming a hopeless alcoholic…"

He suddenly sat up. "Ah here! This left."

With lightning reflexes, Paul yanked the van down the concealed dirt road that looked like nothing more than a break in the trees, glancing in the rearview mirror to see that Jasper followed.

"This is an emergency Park access road. Goes in about –…"

"Two miles," Paul grumbled under his breath.

The Were smacked his lips blandly and collapsed back against the seat as the vehicle lurched and swayed over the rough terrain.

As his mind tumbled, and his anxiety rose, Paul leaned forward over the wheel. Trying to measure his breath which had quickened in his adrenaline-fueled angst, the emotions roiled in his gut like a category 15 hurricane: he wondered what he would find. _This_ is where the proverbial rubber met the road.

This was it.

Clenching his jaw, he let his focus settle against his wildly pumping heart. _However_ she was now, _whatever_ she needed him to be – even if it was a perceived foe and captor – he would do it. It couldn't even be a question.

Suddenly he realized just how quiet the van had become. Oh, they had dutifully kept their traps shut, but the breath of every last beast in the van – even the Were's – had gone shallow and near silent. They could smell the violence and anguish ramping up in him like a storm surge.

Expelling a long slow breath, Paul forced himself to lean back in his seat, propping one arm up on the open window.

He also needed to remain _calm_. Bella would be able to scent his anxiety now. The thought made his heart twist in his chest: _how_ could he have let this happen to her?

_Being Turned just might have been better._

Immediately, his mind flashed to images of the Newborns those years ago.

"**FUCK**," Paul slammed his fist against the dashboard and it dented under his angst. No matter how you sliced it, this situation just sucked.

"You know you probably won't find her in this next 16 hours of daylight," the Were murmured cryptically beside him.

Paul turned on his passenger with a snarl.

"I'm simply preparing you for the possibility," he gave Paul a saccharine smile. "I don't have to tell _you_ how far a wolf ranges during the night. If you factor in the unnatural speed and the driving rage…" he tipped his head meaningfully.

Paul swallowed and returned his eyes to the road. It _was_ a valid point. Even with a literal pack of unnatural senses, they probably wouldn't be able to track a scentless prey far in 16 hours of daylight through unknown territory.

Paul blew air out of his cheeks in a huff of defeat. He needed to pace himself; this wasn't some battle that could be quickly won by a surge of aggression and intensity.

This was the long haul.

The dirt road continued for several more minutes under a thick canopy of trees. Finally a small turn-around came into view. Paul parked the van and jerked up the parking brake with a hand he realized was shaking. He let his head hang and his eyes closed for a resetting breath as the others slid open the door and spilled out into the misty woodland.

Paul pushed open the door and slipped out, incidentally pulling out the pair of wire cutters he'd thrown in the foot well.

Jasper had parked beside them and was coming around the front of his BMW rental. "Looks like you boys had yourself an enjoyable ride, there," he chuckled slyly. "And lady a' course," he added with a chivalrous tip to his head toward Leah.

Leah gave him a saucy glare.

Rolling his eyes, Paul idly flipped the tool in his hand as he rounded the van and yanked open the passenger's door. " 'Kay, mutt. Where'd you dump her?" He smacked the heavy shears into his palm in punctuation.

"Another instrument of torture?" The Were raised a snide brow.

Paul's eyes narrowed on that strange, gray gaze. "Her _wedding ring's_ silver," he hissed.

The Were shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat, wisely deciding to answer the question. "Behind that copse of trees there's a rocky outcropping overlooking a meadow," he blurted in a hushed tone. "I left her sheltered under one of the larger stones."

Paul nodded, abruptly turning his back on the Were and tipping his head back with a steeling breath. He was with Jake on this one – it took all he could muster not to shove these wire cutters straight through the beast's heartless chest.

But they still needed him. _When_ (not if) they found her he would be an invaluable source of information.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Paul tipped his head down. "Kai," he growled, trying his best to disarm his voice, but not really succeeding.

But Kai was used to wolves by now.

"Yes, Paul?" the man looked up from where he had been listening attentively to Brady's quiet direction.

Paul had to give it to him - Kai had so far kept an impressively low profile for both his natural flamboyance… and size.

"So you know what you gotta do?" Paul took several steps toward where they had all instinctively gathered around Jacob like chicks to a mother hen.

A mischievous smile curved Kai's generous lips as his eyes darted to the Were. "Ho cuz, dis mahu braddah's gonna git one shaka boo time wit dis lolo buggah. No worries," he crooned in the Hawaiian Pidgin he could slip into on demand. He chuckled at the Were's comically confounded expression.

With a squeeze to Brady's shoulder he sauntered forward, "Aiden an me's gonna get to know each other real well. Honey, aren't we?" he gushed an approximate translation in his more usual gay twang. "Just those boots alone, mmm," he shook his head with sarcastic disapproval. "We gotta have us some _serious_ fashion talk, girl."

The Were collapsed back against his seat, letting his candelabra-bound hands fall to his lap. "I may just have fared better with the Fae," he grumbled under his breath.

"Aww, I'm a _different_ kinda fairy," he wrinkled his nose coquettishly. "But just as fun."

Paul's lips twitched in amusement as Jacob stepped forward and clapped an appreciative hand on Kai's big shoulder. The Were was undoubtedly in for a theatrical taste of his own medicine.

"You got your phone…?" Jacob asked him.

Kai's face had lost all staged pretenses in attentiveness to his mate's Alpha; it was his Pack too, and he understood good and well the odds they were playing against for their sister's rescue. He nodded soberly.

"Just call my cell if this asshole gives you any kinda trouble. Jasper's gonna answer while we're Phased and one of us will come back and _kill 'em for you_," Jacob crooned with the calm evenness of the God's honest truth.

"And that'll be _me_," Brady vowed under his breath in an uncharacteristic snarl. He might be an Omega, but -while not aggressive - he was fiercely protective. Not one of the Pack had any doubts that he could and _would_ defend any one of them to the death.

That only went double for his mate.

Kai threw his mate a reassuring wink. "Baby, don't you worry 'bout us," he soothed. "We're gonna be just _fabulous_,"

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	15. Red Leaves

_Be prepared: horror, angsty drama, and yes, *gasp* a dash of romance (finally). This chapter has two scenes of different times. We open up with a character who is in shock and negotiating a confusing situation (you'll see), therefore the writing reflects this by being clipped and choppy. I hope it works the way I want it to._

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

'

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 – Red Leaves<strong>

_(still pulling phrases from the poem of the first chap)_

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><p>'<p>

_The previous day._

'

Bella awoke screaming. It was a raw, tortured sound.

The air rasped roughly through a throat that felt like hamburger meat and exited her mouth through lips peeled back from gnashing teeth.

_Pain_.

No, she was _beyond_ pain.

Into the white-hot abyss of agony. It felt like the cytoplasm of each and every cell of her body was _boiling_.

Bella tried to move, and her body jerked and spasmed over the ground, impacting something hard with a violent crack.

Hard was good.

Better than this molten torment. Pressing her lips together over dry teeth, she arduously tried to grasp this hardness. Only one hand responded to her desperate plea, the other was … nothing but blistering flame.

Maybe she was in hell?

Bella's fingers blindly clawed into something rough and cool, and its solidity was comforting. Feeling like a drowning victim thrown a lifering, she clung onto it for dear life, panting hard.

Images flashed through her head: faces, memories, feelings swirled and dissipated like an ephemeral mist before she could grasp them. She _needed_ something hard. A place to begin.

"_Bella_," her lips soundlessly caressed the shape of the words. _"My name is Bella."_

It was a start.

That only hand fumbled across the hardness, making its way back to her body. Did one even _have_ a body in hell? All she could feel was a burning pain.

Those fingers smacked against clammy flesh and clumsily followed it.

A breast…

A collarbone…

A neck…

Trembling, they crept their way up to her face: solid and familiar, too.

And sticky.

Her fingers pushed into her lax lips and slipped over her teeth to collide with a wet quivering tongue.

_Sweet, so sweet._

Instinctually she suckled, drawing in three fingers to nurse this soothing taste from her hand. Exhausting the taste, she popped her fingers from her lips and frantically sought that stickiness again. She smeared her hands across her face and then drew her fingers back to her mouth and suckled.

One of the waves of searing agony rolled through, and every muscle seized, making her teeth chatter against her knuckles while she whimpered.

_Paul_.

The name washed into her head, drawn by the ebbing swell of torture. Along with the name came the image of his face: those dark, mischievous eyes, full lips hitched up on one side, balancing sly and canny by the raise of the opposite brow. Teak skin, warm arms, large and caring hands.

_Now she remembered._

Bella's eyes popped open.

Sunlight lanced into her eyes like a hot needles and she blinked furiously.

_Where was she? _

Her frantic gaze darted over shapes that took several minutes to process and remember. She was curled around what looked like a rock- craggy and tufted with moss. Eyes swept up to the branches of green, green leaves that blew in the wind and made noon sunlight filter down in columns like rain.

Panting with fear, she tried to sit up – without removing her comforting fingers from between her lips – and she ended up careening over into the stone with a crack. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she barely felt the impact in context of the chronic pain wracking her body. She pulled her one good hand from her mouth and pressed her palm to the rough surface of the rock, as she looked around her.

_Where was she?_

Her gaze was drawn down to the hand splayed over the moss – her palm felt sticky. With an odd sense of dread, her nostrils flared and her lips began to tremble as she turned her hand slowly over.

It was slick with glistening red.

With a shriek, Bella bolted upright, swaying and pitching forward over her thighs and nearly losing consciousness from the pain. Swallowing thickly, she sat up a bit more, her body hunched and contorted as if her entire left side was missing.

She was covered in _blood_!

With a wail, her eyes raked across her nude body, strips of long hair stuck in dried rusty ribbons. Her hand slapped instinctively to her face, grazing across her wet cheeks before she ripped it back down into her field of vision.

_Blood_.

Her breath was heaving in convulsive panic as, wide-eyed, she cast her gaze slowly out past the solace of the moss-covered rock. On all sides was a gruesome scene: anonymous bits of flesh and snapped bone were strewn across the forest floor, crimson painting the carpet of leaves blood-red like a grisly autumn massacre.

Hysteria rose up in her throat along with bile and Bella lunged forward, catching herself on one hand as she vomited. The sickening surge of blood and repulsive chunks of meat that spewed forth ripped a gurgling scream from her lips and nearly choked her.

Snapping her eyes shut, she let her body expel every last drop of what was inside her in seething wave after wave of hacking spasms. Gasping, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and fell backwards, carefully averting her eyes. Tears were surging, hot and cleansing down her cheeks, as Bella bit her lip against desolate sobs.

Destitute and exhausted, she rolled over on her side and shrieked in the explosion of blinding pain.

Her breath panting quick and shallow through her mouth – frozen in a silent scream – she rolled back onto her back and closed her eyes for a moment. Some part of her had thought that – with the detached acceptance that came with having past her breaking point long ago in this excruciation- she'd simply lost her left arm, but obviously there was something still remaining.

Gulping, her right hand blindly patted over her other side, finding her other arm curled up in a protective knot against her chest. Cracking her eyes open, she looked down. Her hand at the end of that arm was nothing but a blistered, swollen and unrecognizable knot. Blinking, she sat up a bit more. Deep in the repulsive blackened flesh and puss, a glimmer of silver sparkled in the dappled sunlight.

Her wedding ring.

Her _silver_ wedding ring.

**Werewolf**.

Bella let her head fall back heavily to the leaves as her sobs became a keening lament.

_Oh, no. _Paul.

She couldn't _feel_ him anymore. Not the comforting embrace of her imprint, not the warmth of her mating bond.

_Nothing_.

It was broken.

She was broken.

She'd failed him and now he and her son would spend the rest of their swiftly fleeting days running from the demons of _her_ past.

While she spent the rest of her eternity a monster.

_Alone_.

Bella tipped her head up to the sky and she screamed. It was a ruined, hopeless sound:

"**NOOO! !**"

'

_'_

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><p><em>'<em>

_Back to the "present."_

'

'

The early morning sun of an uncommonly clear day tugged at a soft blanket of mist on the forest floor as Paul jogged beside Jacob, flanked by the rest of the Pack, through the small thicket of trees.

Jasper kept pace in the back – and thoughtfully downwind of the Wolves.

"So you think it's best to run it like a net? Space the Wolves about a half mile apart?" Jacob asked Paul as they cleared the wooded area overlooking a valley meadow, ethereal under the tender blush of morning and pooling with fog from higher ground. To the left, a dew-dark rocky outcropping jutted out onto the plain that stretched across to the foot of the craggy mountain rising beyond.

"Yeah. You gotta stay near Jaz and the phone, though," Paul murmured as he paused and his sharp eyes swept over the tumble of stones.

"We'll keep him in the outer wing," Jacob nodded. "Over here," he gasped as they both caught the scent on the breeze at the same time.

Paul sprinted past him around a crop of boulders and lurched to a stop in front of the undeniable rusty shadow of a small body under a small, granite overhang.

Slowly, Paul squatted, reaching out a shaking hand to touch the ground which had been stained with blood. He lifted his fingers to his nose and drew in a deep breath of the same scent that had been lifted by the air.

_Bella's blood._

His hand fell in a fist to his bended knee as his head bowed under the weight of his agony. There had been _so much blood_.

As the others jogged up, Jacob stopped beside him, clapping his big hand on Paul's shoulder in a wordless expression of empathy.

"So, where do you-…" he began.

"Jacob!" Jasper's call was a hundred feet into the field.

Paul shot to his feet as both men whipped around.

"Blood," he exclaimed urgently. "_Fresh_ animal blood…" he lifted his face again to the breeze, each, every Wolf mimicking him.

Paul tore out into the field, following the faint scent born on the cool, morning breeze.

Jasper fell into step beside him. "It's so _close. _Do you think…?" he gasped.

Paul merely growled irritably, his focus 300% on the scent they followed and keeping his head in the game even while his heart sprinted on ahead.

As the scent grew stronger he realized the kill smelled to be very recent – the rich scent of blood not yet dried to a rusty tang. His mind desperately searched for ways to curtail his hope – perhaps it was a dog's kill? He knew from his internet search on this national park that there were mountain ponies and hill sheep, but he hadn't read anything about carnivores. Especially this close to the road.

They hastened across the hazy sweeping plain toward the rocky tree-line that stretched halfway up to peel back from the rising mountain.

As they passed the first trees, Jasper darted to the right. "Another kill," he called over his shoulder. "About a day old," he mused as his gaze swept the decimated sheep carcass strewn across rock and soil, gruesome stains painting the fallen leaves.

Paul had sprinted on ahead to where, not a hundred feet into the forest, the remains of another unfortunate animal were shredded over a grisly 15 square feet. Paul's eyes frantically swept the mountainside as Jacob stooped to the ground.

"Only hours old," Jacob whispered, as his gaze panned the earth around him. "But there are _no prints_ other than the sheep." He looked up at Paul with a somber gaze. "It's like some kinda phantom made this kill…"

Paul nodded absently.

"Spread out!" Jacob bellowed and then lifted his nose to the wind.

Leaving the Pack to Jacob's capable hands, Paul jogged upwind, as the whisper-soft gait of his party was heard dispersing around him.

The strawberry-lemonade light of a morning made the swirling mists glow around the dew-soaked trunks of trees. The leaves were still wet and slick under his shoe and the verdant earthy scent of forest floor clung to the roof of his mouth like cobwebs. Even his soundless passing cast a shadow of eerie silence on the morning birdsong in the branches.

His pace was even and quick – yet attentive - as he darted over mossy fallen logs, and feinted around trees in crouched pursuit of any clue to an animal's trail.

A rabbit, print here… some kind of ground bird's nest there… the worn path of mountain sheep coming down to graze … these were the only markers on the life map drawn across this forest floor. The whisper of running water threaded through the forest and Paul automatically turned toward it.

_Perhaps the beast had wanted to drink-…_

Any speculation was immediately abandoned for what he saw.

Off to the right, Paul's gaze snapped to a tuft of fur that was snagged on the rough bark of a tree and he caught himself against it in his haste as he leaned down and plucked it out with shaking fingers. Silky and snow-white, he didn't know how he'd spotted it in the mists. He rubbed it between his fingers and lifted it idly to his nose (it was scentless) as he tried to make the trail. The animal was unsteady on its feet, it had careened into the tree, he could tell that much from the impact on the bark and the fur, but there were oddly no paw prints or any other natural trail. It had slipped through these woods like a ghost and Paul appreciated just why the Were had said that she would be impossible to track.

Paul pushed off the tree with a long, steeling inhale of ready. He moved slowly, his eyes straining for every last detail around him as he jogged down a small ravine toward a stream that was capped by a rushing halo of mist from the mountain.

"**HERE**!" he yelled hoarsely, before his mind had even registered what he saw.

Across the water, no more than twenty feet up the far embankment, a nude, pale body –streaked with dirt and blood and covered by a knotted carpet of hair – lay face down in the leaves.

"Bella," he gasped as he vaulted the stream in one huge leap, making the fog swirl in his wake.

Paul froze. His breath caught in his chest and every last fiber of his being seemed to vibrate with pending hope, chattering on the edges of cold desolation as his gaze swept over the woman that he loved.

Bella's entire body was wracked with tremors, her heart was flailing wildly in her chest like a moth against a window and he could hear her breathing - spasmodic, rapid and shallow - into the forest floor.

Still she was…

_Here_.

The sheer gravity of that realization brought him heavily to his knees, all the many breaths held over these hellish days of waiting expelled in a single sob.

"Oh, God," he choked quietly. "_Little girl_."

She was perhaps on the thinner side - and filthy - but he could scent that the blood that covered her was not her own and there was no visible damage under the layer of grime. Her face buried in the leaves, one arm was splayed out across the ground as if she'd collapsed while she'd been crawling.

Haphazardly throwing the clippers onto the ground from his back pocket and ripping off his shirt, Paul shuffled forward over the ground on his knees. Gently he lay his tee over her naked body. She didn't move a muscle, but just continued to pant into the ground as tremor after tremor rolled through her like sets of summer swells.

_Bella was here._ Not two feet before of him: _breathing, alive_. Or something.

He simply _had_ to touch her. Paul reached out a finger and ghosted it over her blood stained cheekbone.

Her body seized as if the feather-light touch of his fingertip was a red-hot poker and a guttural moan slipped from her lips.

He jerked back the contact, fisting his hand above her face, but simply unable to draw it back any farther.

Bella's breath rasped harsher in her breast as she continued to groan – a soft, pitiful sound – as she arduously turned toward him over on her side.

Paul scooted back several inches to keep from touching, his hands quivering helplessly above her. "Babe-…"

Paul jumped at the lighting snatch of her hand.

Fingers with torn, blackened nails wrapped around his wrist with a clumsy grip whose strength far belied those small hands – unable to fully encircle his large frame.

Bella's eyelids fluttered over the rolling whites of her eyes as she ferried his hand down to her nose and her breath hitched unevenly. Seeming to steel herself for a moment, she audibly swallowed and then drew in a full lungful of air, sniffling cool air over his palm. A pink tongue darted out to tentatively lap over his fingers.

And she released her breath with a little grunt of pleasure as a low lupine purr spilled from cherry pie lips.

Paul blinked rapidly, his brow furrowed in both heartache and surprise. With a little mewling wail, Bella blindly clasped his hand to her cheek and she turned fully over onto her right side. She suckled on the heel of his hand as if the taste gave her comfort as she laboriously drew her knees to her chest in a fetal position.

Paul's eyes burned at such a raw and primal expression of both her vulnerability and the fact that – even now – his scent soothed her. Squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, and feeling his hot sorrow sprint over his cheeks, he drew in a deep breath and returned his gaze to the woman curled beside him.

And it was then that he saw her left side.

"_Jesus_," he choked.

Her left hand was bloated and pussy, fisted into a swollen knot and held painfully up against her shoulder. The skin around her rings had blistered over them and was blackened like it had been scorched.

"_Jesus Christ_!" he spat again, turning with frantic eyes to where the others had gathered and were petrified by the same shock that made Paul feel like he was floating, disembodied over such a surreal scene.

His gaze panned the collection of disturbed expressions and locked desperately on Jacob. "Help me," he gasped hoarsely.

As if his words had been a starting gun, Jacob shook his head to clear it and immediately sprang forward, ripping off his shirt in one motion and laying it decorously over Bella's tiny trembling body. He squatted at her other side, his gaze raking over her with distress.

"Shit, Paul," he hissed. "We gotta get that thing off."

Bella's panting whines were pooling in Paul's palm as she continued to suckle against him and Paul nodded tersely as he gritted his teeth in agony. He didn't know what he'd expected – in fact he'd tried very hard _not_ to speculate on what he'd find – but this was just so much more tortuous than what he'd prepared for in the van: she wasn't rabid or railing… she was _suffering_.

Piteously.

"Jasper, we gotta try those drugs," Jacob murmured as his hand came down to her ruined hand. "Honey, lemme see," he crooned quietly. "Let's get these rings off, sweethea-…"

_**"NOOOO!"**_ Bella's barely articulate screech was shocking.

Ripping her good hand out from under her cheek, she struck blindly out over her body. Her open hand impacted with Jacob's face and a resounding crack. The sheer force and the surprise of her strike threw him back on his ass.

Stunned, Paul's gaze snapped back to his wife as she flipped lithely over onto her stomach and pushed herself up on her hand and knees. With a hoarse, pained cries, she scrabbled frantically over the leaves, trying to stand. Finally she stumbled to her feet and made a run for it.

"It's me, babe," Paul cried following her unsteady steps and reaching out a hand to her shoulder.

An inhuman growl ripped from her lips as she whipped around with a wicked clawing strike, her hair tossing wildly. Paul dodged with his innate battle reflexes.

Crouching defensively, her lips peeled back from teeth bared in a vicious snarl from under the matted hair that hung over her face. Paul faced her down with open, placating hands as she recoiled with a growl, backing slowly away from him.

_"Shh,"_ Paul crooned taking a slow step toward where her entire body was trembling. "Bella…_Bella_….it's me."

Bella's head whipped back and forth violently, wildly tossing her jumble of hair and then she whipped back around to bolt.

Paul lunged for her, and was caught off-guard by her lightning strike as she spun around with preternatural reflexes. Paul took the hit to his chin with a soft '_oof'_, but grabbed her wrist in his fist on the rebound.

With a grating howl of surprise and… _fear_ – Paul's heart clenched painfully – she struggled against his grip as he tugged her toward him. With another scream a leg snapped up to an impressive height to fiercely strike his body, Paul deflected the blow with his forearm, but in the split-second of surprise, she wrenched her wrist free and lurched around to again flee on frantic bare feet.

But Jacob rounded on her with open, pleading hands. "Bella, we're here to help," he murmured as he stalked slowly toward her. With a cry, her right hand raked over his chest, drawing four neat lines of blood over his bare skin. But Jacob stubbornly threw his long arms around her, clasping her to his chest as she shrieked in terror.

Berserk, Bella bucked and kicked fiercely as Jacob struggled to get a good grip on her bare skin, now slick with perspiration. With a distressed wail, she burst free sending Jacob tumbling backwards into the dirt.

She careened forward, scrabbling deliriously up the embankment as if she were running for her life.

Bella stumbled and fell face-down into the dirt on her damaged arm. Wild growling cries foamed her lips as she clawed at the ground, pulling herself in an aching crawl and sobbing piteously at the pain it caused her crushed hand.

Meeting Jacob's distraught gaze with his own, Paul steeled himself a moment and then pounced forward, pinning her to the ground for a moment as she wailed. His hands slipped gently around to pin her struggling good arm, the other wrapping over her other elbow and torso. He then quickly snatched her up off the ground in one head-spinning movement.

With inarticulate shrieks she threw her head back against his shoulder with a crack as he pulled her up off her feet, wrapping his arms more securely around her body and pinning her good arm in his embrace.

Bella continued to shrilly screech as she kicked frenetically at the air, whipping her head back and forth like some wild child railing against Paul's iron grip.

"Fuck, she's strong," Paul gasped. "I don't wanna hurt her."

"Jaz, the drugs!" Jacob bellowed, as he took several steps toward where Paul was struggling with Bella's wildly failing body. "Honey, it's us," he murmured again, sorrow pulling the croon taut.

Jasper was at Jacob's side in a heartbeat, an intimidating hypodermic needle poised in his hand.

At the vampire's proximity, Bella emitted a blood-curdling snarl as she bucked so violently in Paul's grasp that he lost his footing. He took the fall backwards onto his ass in order to keep his hold on her body.

"Lee! Her legs!" he gritted through his teeth, as Bella's kicks – now with the leverage of the ground -threatened to dislodge Paul's steely grip.

Leah lunged forward, sliding in the leaves on her knees beside Paul. "Oh my God!" Leah gasped. "Her eyes!" She met Paul's confused gaze with her surprise.

_"NOOO!"_ Bella hoarsely screamed again that only human word.

Biting her lip in regret, Leah wrestled Bella's wildly kicking legs to the ground, pinning them there.

With her ankles and body hopelessly immobilized, Bella made one final desperate flail and let her head fall back on Paul's shoulder. Her snarls turned into a strange, hoarse keening; an inhuman and piteous lament that echoed through the silent morning and cleaved every last heart in two.

"Jacob you do it," Jasper murmured holding out the syringe. "I don't want to get close any closer and cause her any more-…" his voice caught and frayed in his throat. "Just empty it into her leg," he whispered.

With a gulping nod of assent, Jacob took the needle and hesitantly took the several steps forward to kneel beside her.

Bella didn't acknowledge him, but just continued to whip her head slowly back and forth, face pinched in anguish as that wretched wailing continued to scrape her body hollow.

"God, I hope this works," he breathed out with his exhale as he plunged the needle Bella's thigh.

She howled, her entire body jerking in fear.

But as the minutes ticked by, her cries became quieter and her rigid body slowly relaxed in Paul's grasp.

Paul – and each and every one of them - expelled a breath of relief.

"I think she needs another dose," Jasper mused quietly as he stooped back to the first aid bag he' d brought. "That shoulda knocked her out cold by now."

Paul nodded, rearranging his grip on his now limp and whimpering wife as her head lolled against his shoulder. Leah released her feet and scooted out of the way, snatching up Paul's shirt and laying it again over Bella's nude body.

Bella kicked once unenthusiastically as Jasper approached with another wicked-looking syringe. He emptied it unceremoniously into her other leg.

Bella shuddered and then went utterly still, her left arm finally relaxing from its pained curl against her shoulder and falling down to where Paul caught it in a gentle hand.

She was out.

Jasper met Paul's agonized gaze. "We gotta get that ring off now, while she's out. I dunno how long it'll last."

Paul nodded curtly.

"Let me help you get her in one of those shirts," Leah murmured quietly beside him, as her hand brushed over his shoulder in a brief and tender lupine gesture of comfort.

Paul swallowed thickly and sat up more, pulling Bella into his lap. Her lax dainty frame felt foreign and unnaturally heavy in his arms.

They wordlessly pulled Paul's shirt over her matted hair and filthy body, pulling her arms through the short sleeves and the hem down over her knees. His shirt dwarfed her tiny body – a body that was now no longer her own.

Biting his lip against the despair that threatened to break free of its tenuous restraint, Paul pulled her back into his lap, cradling her tenderly against his chest as Jasper readied the bag and sterilized the wire cutters with a lighter. It would be a gruesome task to try to dig those rings our out of the inflamed wound that had formed around them.

Paul pressed his lips together mournfully and gazed down at his wife's face: smudged with dirt, animal blood…but finally at peace.

His finger pushed back a stiff, dread-locked piece of hair from her cheek as his eyes snapped down to her unblemished neck. Edward's scar had disappeared.

And so had the darkened shadow of his Wolf's mark.

Truth be told, that was the single, most unsettlingly part of this whole thing: as he held his wife gratefully in his arms while Jasper delicately cleaned her hand, _his Wolf slept_ on _in languishing grief_.

That instinct didn't rail against the fact that another male – let alone a leech - was tending Bella in such a vulnerable condition. It didn't raise its imperious head and demand to mark her anew. It didn't crave to reconnect with its mate, but continued to pine.

Instead, it was as if Paul held someone like Emily in his arms: someone dear to the man's heart who the Wolf knew and was comfortable with. But also didn't feel the need to care for past its innate protection for Pack or interfere with the man's judgment in tending. It just slept in its sorrow, grieving for its mate, and leaving the man to the man's world.

Part of him was incensed that the animal seemed to abandon Bella so easily, but Paul knew enough by now about the beast not to view it as betrayal in the human sense of the word. The lupine instinct simply didn't play by the same rules.

To the Wolf, Bella had _died_.

And that was all it could understand. Her demise took with it the grounding and stabilizing bonds of imprint and mate leaving it mourning pitifully and leaving Paul, even now, with a bereft feeling of desolation lacing his more complex human emotions.

It was disconcerting, but Paul could work with it. To Paul _the man,_ Bella –his wife and the mother of his child, his lover and the best friend of his life – was _alive_.

And she needed him.

Ignoring the hushed distress leaking out in whispers from the Pack and the ghastly procedure Jasper was attempting with an anguished furrow of his brow… Paul leaned forward and pressed his lips to his wife's forehead in a lingering kiss. The blissful gratitude and relief that surged like a tide was banked by a soothing swell in his heart: an eternal, profound and _utterly human_ feeling.

_Love_.

And suddenly Paul realized that _this_ was more than enough.

_Human_ love.

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	16. This Burden, so Kind

_I 'preciate your notes/reviews tons and more. _

_'_

_Hawaiian word of the day: __**Kau-kau**__ (Hawaiian slang) = "Eats" (American slang :-)_

_Song lyrics: "In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel _

_'_

_As always, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy._

'

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><p><strong>Chapter 16 – This Burden, so Kind<strong>

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><p>'<p>

Brady's baritone sounded cut from felt as his gifted fingers caressed the music free from the 12-string acoustic guitar. Sitting on the floor, between Kai's knees on the couch, his energy soothed the edgy Pack strewn over the main room of their rented farmhouse.

After Leah had helped Paul bathe her – an arduous and lengthy process - he had laid Bella's shivering form out on quilts in front of the fire they'd made in a stone hearth that stretched the entire length of the room.

Paul nudged a curl from Bella's cheek as he stretched out beside her on his side and pillowed his cheek sadly on his forearm.

They'd had to cut her long, thick hair to clean it.

Kai had snipped it with trembling hands to a blunt bob that fell past her jaw - only slightly longer than Leah's - as Paul stoically held her head up. It was just one more thing that had been taken from her along with her humanity.

She had Changed.

She even _smelled_ different…

Different, but still so, so good. Her scent had metamorphosed from that delicate wildflower honey into a luscious sweetness like hyacinth on a muggy summer's day. It was a settled and sensual fragrance that drew him in like a magnet…

As it probably did for leeches too.

Paul pushed his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed in a stolen moment as Brady continued to sing.

_love, I don't like to see so much pain  
>so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away<br>I get so tired of working so hard for our survival  
>I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive<em>

Paul pulled his head back, brushing his lips over her smooth creamy skin along the way. He wondered what their future would be like. Would they forever straddle this uncomfortable line where Paul's heart was consumed by love for his wife while his lupine soul slept obliviously on?

He suddenly had whole new appreciation for Jacob and Leah's struggles.

He glanced behind him where Jacob sat ramrod straight on the couch, his gaze trained intently on Bella's quivering body, while his hand threaded through Leah's silky hair. She was curled up on the floor with her head in Jacob's lap, her eyes red with the uncharacteristic tears that she was obviously fighting with everything she had.

Seeing Bella this way had broken her – having to help bathe her, cut her hair, dress her while her tiny body shuddered with wave after wave of a pain that, even drugged to the gills, escaped her lips in soft cries.

It had broken all of them. In a two mere hour, they were all violently changed.

After the adrenaline of the hunt had ebbed, the entire Pack -perhaps exacerbated by their Alpha's unbalance – was left high and dry on rocky shores in the scorching light of their sister's suffering.

Right now, only Brady's voice and the delicate tune he expertly wove with guitar strings held them all together.

_In your eyes  
>the light the heat<br>I am complete  
>I see the doorway to a thousand churches<br>the resolution of all the fruitless searches  
>I see the light and the heat<br>in your eyes  
>oh, I want to be that complete<em>

Brady's voice faded and the instrumental became more complex, rising to bear the weight of his Pack's burden.

Paul's gaze panned to where Jasper was perched up on a table in the far corner, typing counter rhythm with hummingbird fingers across laptops key.

"How long will it take, Jaz?" Paul murmured.

Jasper drew in a deep breath, looking up from his screen. "Maybe a few days? There're several clandestine sites that the human underworld uses to do things like find an asset, hire an assassin… lovesome things like that," he drawled. "The Fae keep tabs on 'em and I'm postin' a little cryptic request that's shore to get their attention."

"You used Topher's name…?" Paul prompted, just making sure he'd followed Sam's direction - given by Topher himself.

Jasper nodded. "Yup, got his callin' card front and center."

"How's the hand?" Jacob murmured quietly.

"It's healing. _Slowly_," Paul sighed, reaching out and brushing his fingers over her gauze-bound fist. It was heeling at an amazing rate (for a human) but the Were had warned them that silver wounds healed more slowly and therein lied the mortal danger to Werewolves.

And indeed, her hand looked like a hand again, but the skin was still swollen and oozing from where Jasper had had to dig gruesomely into the ruined flesh to extract them. As horrific as the injury had been, it didn't look to be permanently maiming to Werewolf constitution, and at least the corresponding handicap had kept the wolf close enough for them to find her quickly.

Suddenly Bella's breath skittered, and Paul's gaze darted over her in anticipation as he sat up a bit more.

With a long low moan, she shook her head slowly back and forth. Brady's fingers stumbled on the guitar as every last gaze in the room snapped to the girl stretched out on the floor.

The sound of Jasper's laptop clicking closed made Paul look up. He set it beside him and leaped lightly to the floor. "I think I'll take me a little stroll in the country," he murmured quietly, dusting off his hands as his gaze darted to Bella' quivering form. "Maybe get me somethin' ta drink."

Paul nodded gratefully as his gaze returned to the woman now groaning on the floor beside him. The last thing Bella needed was the stench of leech to aggravate her suffering.

"I'd put some distance between you and her too, if I were you," the Were intoned through the broken French doors where he sat in his silver bindings in a chair on the back porch. In other words, as far from Jacob as Paul could get him, while still being able keep his repulsive face in sight.

"You're _not_ me," Paul turned and glared at him.

"Thank God," Jacob snarled under his breath.

"Suite yourself," he nasalized with a roll of his eyes. "But when she takes your arm off, don't expect any sympathy from me."

With a mewling whimper, Bella arduously turned on her side away from Paul, pulling her knees again to her chest. She moaned as another merciless wave of pain rolled over her, making her entire body shudder.

Paul bit his lip and slowly reached his hand toward her face, longing to comfort her. As his fingers neared her face, she sniffled and then, like a steel trap, her hand snapped up with startling speed to grab him. Whimpering, she pulled it closer to her face, drawing in a long breath and nestling into it, her quiet pants pooling in his palm.

Paul's nostrils flared as his nose burned with the threatening tears pressing against his eyes.

"See, Price?" Embry snorted from where he sprawled across a large easy chair near Quil. "We _told_ you she didn't, like, go after him or somethin'. She just tried to run."

Paul looked up, appraising the Were's reaction: his brow was furrowed in confusion.

"So 'you think it's like us?" Leah asked quietly, picking her head up from Jacob's lap. "The wolf doesn't change who we _were_, it just makes it …" her words died on her lips, like she was afraid of speaking them aloud.

Jacob squeezed her shoulder. "Yeah, I mean, look at Brady," he ventured, stepping out on that same thin hopeful ice as he glanced to where their Omega had stopped playing and was watching Bella tensely.

"Bray, keep playing," Paul murmured, returning his gaze to where Bella abandoned his hand to wrap both arms around her knees, squeezing them to her chest as she hashed a groan through gritted teeth.

Paul brushed a tender palm over her hair as he sat up.

Brady's fingers again tiptoed over the strings, plucking forth an ethereal melody like cobwebs and Swan Lake, arranged for classical guitar, crept through the room.

"You might want to make another musical selection," the Were droned.

"Why's _that_, asshole?" Quil growled from where he lounged on the floor. Every last one of them was what could only be called 'overprotective' of their Pack's Omega.

The Were rolled his eyes with an urbane flutter of lids. "It's the tune of the music box I'd brought her, and it was playing the night she…-"

In eerie confirmation, Bella's blood curdling shriek tore the room asunder.

Brady's hands immediately stilled.

Paul whipped around to see her twist in a efficiently graceful movement to both feet. Crouching defensively, she bared her teeth as her damp hair tousled over her face.

No one moved a muscle as her head whipped back and forth around the room in frantic confusion. Slowly, she backed up toward the hearth.

"Shh, babe," Paul soothed from the floor. "You're safe."

Bella's face snapped to him at the sound of his voice. Paul could see strange, light eyes peering fearfully between the damp curls. Leah had said her eyes had changed too.

_Everything_ had changed.

Swallowing, Paul slowly - achingly slowly – sat up and rearranged his limbs while Bella's breath echoed in ragged pants through the utter silence of the room.

"C'mere, babe," Paul whispered, stretching out his hand invitingly.

Bella started at the movement and she cringed back, tripping on the raised hearth behind her, but deftly catching herself against the stone wall of the hearth. She cowered in fear, her body rigid and trembling.

Paul brought his feet under him in a squat and slowly straightened to stand.

Bella growled in warning.

"It's okay, little girl," Paul crooned as he took a tentative step toward her.

And with not so much as the slightest hesitation, Bella bolted.

In a head-spinning movement she dashed across the room toward the French doors and then skidded to a halt with a screech of fear.

"Hullo again, luv," the Were murmured slyly from his seat on the porch. "Aren't you the enigmatic little one?"

Bella crouched over, her labored breath disintegrating into gravelly snarls as her gaze darted frantically beyond him to the yard, obviously assessing the odds of getting past him.

"Jake," Paul warned, jerking his chin toward the door.

As soon as Bella had started toward the door, Jacob had sprung to his feet from the couch. With the speed of their kind, he lunged across the room, insinuating himself between Bella and the decimated French doors.

At his lightning movement, Bella stumbled back. Her entire body was wracked with tremors – fear or pain, or perhaps both, Paul couldn't tell.

With a subtle approving nod to Jacob, Paul crept silently toward her. "Bella," he whispered quietly.

With a cry of surprise, Bella glanced over her shoulder, her curls tossing wildly, and then….

She darted for the door.

It was only Jacob's preternatural reflexes that were able to intercept her lissome spring. He caught her around the back as she whipped by him, snapping her up into big arms and yanking her wildly kicking feet off the floor.

Bella was shrieking in fear, throwing her head to and fro as she twisted in Jacob's steely grip that pinned both of her arms to her side.

"Shh," Paul crooned as he approached where she frantically struggled in Jacob's strong arms

Paul's face crumpled in sorrow at the scent of her terror. "Bella, it's okay," he whispered and stopped in front of her.

Seeming to remember the last time, Bella stopped her useless flailing and hung her head, her hair forming a shining curtain of waves. Her gulping pants transformed into convulsions as her shoulders jerked with desolate sobs that rose from her very core.

"Aw, babe," Paul agonized as he reached his hands out to her. Bella shied away with a piteous whimper, turning her cheek into Jacob's heaving chest. "Shh," he soothed as his fingers delicately pushed her hair back from her recoiling face.

Paul could hear his own breath, hitching and catching over his lips. She was so beautiful to him… and so _frightened_.

It wasn't right.

"Shh, babe," he crooned quiet and low.

At the first feather touch of his fingertips she froze, sucking in a quiet breath.

Paul paused, encouraged. Then his hands ghosted over her brow with all the tenderness in his being. He traced, slow and sweet, down the bridge of her nose, over the hollow of her cheek, diving under her hair to skim over the top of each ear on his way to snake around to the nape of her neck. Paul cupped that delicate jaw, dwarfed in calloused palms, and slowly tipped her head up.

Bella's eyes were clenched closed as if she were awaiting a mortal blow as she panted light and shallow through quivering nostrils.

"Look at me," Paul whispered.

She didn't, of course, so Paul gently shook her head in petition.

Slowly, Bella's eyes blinked open, long lush lashes drooping with their flutter.

And Paul gasped.

Ice blue eyes, light and smooth like the horizon on a crystal summer's day, widened and effortlessly pulled his very soul up his throat, over his slackened lips and down into the yawning abyss of her pupils. A tangible whooshing sensation took his breath away and burned him hollow at the same time as if he'd been caught in a wildfire back-draft.

And every fiber of his being, every last fluttering heartstring, each gossamer filament of his soul was seized into the vise-like fist of an irrevocable edict:

_**Mine**_.

For the second time in so many hours, the Pack's ruthless frontline was brought to his knees with a hollow thud that echoed through the old house.

"Bella," he breathed her name like a prayer as the imprint's steel hawsers wound around his heart and soul.

Where they belonged.

A memory of the first time he'd imprinted on her flashed through his mind. Oh, how he'd flailed, strained and struggled against what had felt like suffocating enslavement. _I__diot_ was too kind a word for what he'd been: this yoke was easy, this burden so kind.

Bella's stunning eyes stared back at him, her quickened breath skating across parted lips. Paul's hands trembled at her jaw with the overwhelming emotion coursing through him.

Holding his gaze, Bella slowly tipped her cheek against one large palm, nuzzling it sweetly. And then the other.

Paul blinked eyes that had become liquid as he sniffed a soggy little chuckle.

With a frown at the tear that slipped down his cheek, she tried to raise a hand toward it.

And it was then that he realized that Jacob still restrained her.

Paul's eyes burst into flame and darted up to sear his Alpha while a dangerous growl rumbled in his chest. He bared his canines in warning.

"Okay, okay, hold your horses," Jacob sniffed, lowering Bella's feet to the ground and quickly unwrapping his arms to hold up his hands in placating surrender.

Paul's Wolf was still glaring at its Alpha when soft fingertips brushed over his cheek. Paul sucked in a breath of surprise and his gaze slid down to the most beautiful face in the world.

Bella had her head cocked like a curious child, her short curls swinging just over her shoulders. That light azure gaze was washing over his every pore with studious attention, her fingers dancing along its wake and taking meticulous inventory.

She looked so endearingly earnest, that Paul's face broke in half with a grin while a deep chuckle bounced in his chest.

Bella's eyebrows shot up in surprise and her gaze found his eyes, obviously trying to gauge such a reaction. Blinking slowly, her fingers slipped over his lips, feeling the soft puffs of air from his dwindling laughter and her gaze fell to his mouth.

And stuck there in wonder.

From her light experimental probing, her touch became more purposeful, tracing the shape of his lips with fingers that quickly became eager.

Paul's breath caught in his throat as her pink tongue peeked out to run over her bottom lip with an organic, naïve sensuality that he found electrifying.

Eyes locked on his mouth, Bella leaned forward _slowly_, both hands finding their way to hold his cheeks where he knelt, making them nearly eye-level. She hesitated several inches from his face, her soft breath washing sweetly over him and he inhaled indulgently.

Bella's assessing eyes darted back up to his.

Paul's own breath had gone shallow in his chest, he could feel the air vibrating between them with demanding yearning.

Bella could too.

With a heady sigh, her eyes closed and she leaned forward and licked a hesitant tongue over the corner of his mouth.

And then again, drawing a line of fire over Paul's lips.

The second time she didn't pull back away, but pressed her mouth to his with a raw craving, suckling his lower lip into hers with breathy groan.

Paul felt like he'd been tasered, doused in fuel and then ignited. His hands slipped around to the back of her head, drawing her fervently closer as his mouth overtook her callow lips with ardor.

She tasted _so incredibly sweet_. Thick and smooth and heavy like whipped cream.

With a sensuous hum that teetered on a growl, Bella melted against him, her knees buckling as her mouth blossomed under his mouth's hungry caress. Her hands raked through his hair, drawing tracks of fire over his scalp as she pulled him ravenously closer.

Paul moaned as his tongue darted out to twist and plunder, a craving for her body rising like an unstoppable magma tide. His palms slipped down over her slight shoulders to ghost down her back and she shivered deliciously in his embrace. They found what they coveted in the feminine swell of her hips and he ground her pelvis provocatively to him.

But Bella met his need head on, and raised it, pressing her body fervently to his with urgent little grunts against his mouth.

"He imprinted again?" Paul vaguely heard a confusing voice in his head; there was no one else in this entire world but the woman in his arms.

"I think they both did," Jacob's voice tore through Paul's sensual haze like a hot knife through butter.

Paul tore his mouth away with a gasp, his breath heaving on ahead and leaving him dizzy. He glanced wildly up at where Jacob was leaning against the wall, arms crossed across his chest and his lips hitched up in a private smile.

"Points for me," he quipped. "I told you you didn't have to worry 'bout that shit."

Paul blinked rapidly and then his gaze snapped back to the woman still held possessively in his arms. Her eyes were wide, rejection glimmering in their watery depths.

"No, babe. It's not that," he soothed leaning in to press his lips to hers.

Like her lips were combustible tinder, what Paul had intended to be a chaste kiss ignited in white-hot flame. Paul inhaled a mouth that instantly melted into his with ardor.

But he desperately tried to raise his head above the rushing tide of passion. Again he broke the kiss, pushing his face into her jaw and gasping for breath.

But she smelled _so fucking good_.

The hollow between her jaw and the graceful column of her neck was hardly a safer place to be. The quickened thrum of her pulse beating down the tendon of her neck beckoned his mouth like a siren. He wanted to mark her.

_Needed_ to.

_**Mine.**_

"Shit," he hissed, as he reluctantly made himself stand from bended knees, pulling her fluidly to his chest. He held her cheek tenderly to his heart as he let his head fall back with desperate breaths of summer air and the scent of his Pack around them.

Bella seemed to content herself with this new development, pressing her face to his pec and lapping delightedly over his nipple.

Paul shuddered as he gently pulled her face to his sternum, holding it there with a firm hand at the back of her head. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to gather her up in his arms and sprint up the stairs to one of the bedrooms and spend hours exploring this new, solid body of hers.

Shaking his head fiercely he tipped it down to meet Jacob's gaze. The steely look that danced in his eyes screamed as loud as his absent conscience should have been. He _couldn't_ take her like this.

_Not like this:_ no more than an innocent running on instinct.

Bella suddenly shuddered against him, her knees giving out with a tortured cry.

It effectively snapped his head back in the game as he crouched, supporting her body as she slithered to the ground while whimpering in pain.

"Oh God, babe," he croaked as she curled into a knot on the floor, her teeth chattering audibly.

Scooping her up, he crossed back to the hearth and gently set her on the blankets while she panted over a soft keening moan. He folded his legs under him and pulled her head into his lap and she curled around him, her hands grasping fiercely at the material of his shorts.

Paul looked up with anguished eyes at where Jacob had returned to Leah on the couch.

"Maybe sealing the bond will help with the pain," Paul ventured desperately.

Jacob sat back on the couch, spreading his arms over the back of it. His muscles bunched and flexed in his arms as he cocked his head with a hard, imperious look to his usually receptive eyes. Never had Paul seen him look more the blue-blooded part of his inheritance.

"She has to _choose_," he proclaimed in his deep voice.

"She's my _wife_," Paul snarled.

"She _was_," Jacob bit back, leaning forward, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Bella _died_," he hissed. "And this time around, she still gets a _choice_. That's one fucking rule I ain't gonna break for _nobody_," he finished in a marginally softened tone. "C'mon Paul, _think_."

Paul's glare disintegrated and feel in submission as he hung his head.

Bella continued to quake in his lap, her cries of pain breaking his heart with each of her labored breaths. He swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut against her suffering.

_Of course_, Jacob was right. (He usually was, though Paul would never admit it.)

For several silent minutes, Paul's shaking fingers ghosted over her tousled curls as the agony that wracked her body, dissipated slowly into breathless pants. At suffering's wane, Bella's new aquamarine eyes popped open, immediately looking up to find him again.

And a glorious smile spread over parted lips that still trembled with residual agony.

It broke his heart, but still he couldn't help but answer it.

"The imprint's already helping, Paul," Leah's voice was soft and kind.

Paul looked up at where she had her head resting on Jacob's shoulder, his body still imperiously tense. But her expression was open and heartfelt – her habitual defenses lowered for one fleeting moment of transparent soul. That tough exterior had formed to protect a sensitive heart, Paul didn't doubt it for a moment.

He nodded imperceptibly.

Bella peeled herself up from his lap and he watched as she scooted closer, pressing herself nervously against his side as her gaze ventured out over the others in the room.

The Pack's various lame attempts at non-threatening expressions made Paul chuckle. Bella's gaze snapped back up to him and he gave her a reassuring smile.

Her gaze fell timidly to her lap and she suddenly noticed that her left hand was actually functional under the wrapping of gauze. She flexed it experimentally.

"Whattaya make of _this_, Price?" Jacob spat from the couch.

Paul looked up to where the Were was staring with an unreadable expression at Bella, smooshed against Paul's side as she examined her hand. A soft purr of pleasure rumbled in her throat as she flexed her hand

"_Price_?" Paul prompted in a hiss.

The Were blinked and met Paul's gaze with bewildered eyes. "I-I don't know. I-…I thought-" he stammered, all traces of sarcasm evaporated in the face of a stunned humility. That Bella had not become the raging monster that he had, made him ask questions of himself that he'd avoided for many, many years – Paul could see it clearly in disturbed gray eyes.

So could Jacob.

"What'd you think, huh?" Jacob sneered callously. "That you'd get yourself off watching her turn into the same heartless freak as you? That she'd get what she deserved for trying to be _nice_ to someone you hated…" he hissed pulling his arms from around Leah and leaning forward with waxing wrath.

_"You?"_

Paul closed his eyes softly, drawing in a slow cooling breath through his flared nostrils. _He had to stay in control._ The reawakening of their imprint pushed his Wolf dangerously close to simply murdering the Were in cold blood, right then and there. The colder the better, actually.

And now was not the time.

They still needed him: for when Bella Changed tonight... for the play Paul was planning for the impending meeting with the Fae, for-…

"Paul," Brady called quietly.

With an irritable growl, Paul turned his gaze on their Omega. But Brady was not – as he'd expected - warning him testing Jacob with the scent of his anger, he was jerking his chin meaningfully toward-…

Paul's gaze snapped down to his imprint where she had begun to tear at the bandage on her hand with growling teeth.

"No…no, babe," Paul murmured, bringing his palms down to wrap around her healing hand.

With a cry of frustration, she started pulling at her clothes with her unrestrained right hand, an ominous rip coming in response to her battle with Paul's clean tee shirt. Paul snatched up her other hand and held both wrists as gently as he could –and still keeping hold of her with her new-found strength - while she squirmed in his grip with an irritable snarl.

"Her skin hurts," the Were intoned numbly from the porch. "Everything does."

Paul glanced up with a curt nod.

"It'll only get worse the closer we get to mid-day and her to being human," the Were hung his head resignedly, seeming to have given up all insolent pretenses. "Right now she has the mind of an animal, and animals process pain differently," he whispered to his lap.

With a little shriek Bella tore her good hand out of his grip and Paul's gaze snapped back to where she was panting heavily over her thighs. Her right hand fisted and twisted in her clothes as she shuddered in another wave of pain.

Paul released her hands, crouching over to cup her jaw in his hands. "I'm so sorry, babe," he whispered.

Those huge ice-blue eyes were swimming in tears, but still she desperately tried to hold his gaze.

Paul's heart shattered into a million pieces. "I'm sorry." He leaned forward to press his lips to her forehead.

With a pained whimper, she followed him when he tried to pull away, tipping her face up in petition.

With a soft smile he pressed his mouth to those cherry pie lips, drawing in her sweet breath with his gasp.

He'd forgotten just how potent that imperative to seal the bond really was.

Looking back on it, he couldn't _believe_ he'd been able (or willing) to resist it as long as he had. On top of it all, if anything, it felt even stronger and with all the unknowns out of the way - and his _human_ heart far ahead of the game - he wondered if he'd have the strength this time to wait.

Especially with her _so willing_.

Bella had fisted both hands in his shirt and was crawling into his lap while Paul had somehow degenerated from a kiss on her forehead to trying to swallow her whole.

"Jesus!" he gasped, tearing his mouth away and stilling her provocative body with a firm hand. Paul closed his eyes for a moment.

"This is _awesome_. We never getta show with Paul," Quil snickered. "We need some popcorn or somethin'."

Embry snorted, "sure as hell beats the replay of your Saturday nights, dickwa-…"

"ENOUGH!" Jacob boomed low and dangerous from the couch.

Bella jumped, her gaze snapping instinctively to the command.

The infamous two Pack rabble-rousers both lowered their gazes in the face of their Alpha's stern reproof.

"How _bout_ I make us a little kau-kau, yeah?" Kai cut in smoothly, breaking the moment of tension as he did so well. "You guys hungry?"

"When're we _not_?" Quil quipped.

Kai respectfully waited until Jacob turned to him and nodded a curt assent.

"Honey, y'wanna help?" Kai rubbed his hands over his mate's shoulders.

Brady glanced at Jacob who raised his brow minutely in consent. "Go slow," he admonished in a whisper.

Bella's pushed herself into Paul's side as she watched the two of them slowly stand and edge around the room toward the kitchen.

As soon as they disappeared, Bella released a heavy sigh and leaned over, pillowing her cheek on Paul's thigh. A quiet whine slipped from her lips as she drew her knees up under her and shivered once. Paul brushed his hand soothingly over her hair and she snatched it up with her good hand and pressed it to her cheek as if is palm were a lifering in her turbulent seas.

"I owe Sam a call," Jacob murmured.

Paul looked up with a nod. They'd called him from the van after they'd found her, but told him they'd wait to catch him up on details until after she'd awoken.

"You don't think he should tell Cay we found her yet?" Jacob asked tentatively, pulling his phone out of his shorts and turning it on.

"Not yet," Paul affirmed quietly, stroking Bella's temple with the hand not clasped in a death grip against her cheek.

Paul watched him dial the phone with one hand, the other slung over Leah's shoulders. After the time it took to connect the international call, it was picked up in the middle of the first ring.

"Hey Sam," Jacob began, his stress bleeding through his resonant bass.

Suddenly Bella bolted upright.

Paul blinked in surprise as she turned toward the kitchen, fluidly standing to her feet in one smooth movement. Her gaze darted to the others in the room who had frozen (mid-word in the case of Jacob), then she prowled across the room like a shadow.

Glancing in confusion at the others, Paul slipped after her on silent feet. The warrior in him couldn't help but admire the way she moved now, agile, with an elegant tension like a water droplet on a lily pad.

His Wolf purred low in his chest, aroused by this sensuous little game of catch it was playing with this exquisite creature. Oh, it craved to chase her down, lap over every inch of her body, and mark her as…

_MINE._

Paul squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, drawing in a long breath to clear his head. When he opened them again, Bella had disappeared.

A snarl from the kitchen heralded Kai's high effeminate squeak of surprise.

" 'Gotta call y'back," he heard Jacob gasp into the phone as Paul sprinted the rest of the way to the kitchen.

He skidded around the corner on his bare feet to find an almost comical scene: two large (in different ways) men on one side of a generous and pristine kitchen, and a petite girl crouched nimbly on the granite island.

Bella was snarling through bared teeth. One hand on the counter between her bare feet, the other clutching a raw chicken drumstick.

Jacob came up beside him, freezing in surprise. Paul's worried gaze was trained on where Bella vibrated in her spry stance and his Wolf was clawing his insides to shreds to be protectively at her side.

But when Paul would have lunged into the room to her defense, Jacob stayed him with an abrupt arm across his chest and a low, warning growl.

Brady was standing defensively in front of his cowering partner, but his body language was relaxed. "She's hungry," he explained quietly out of the side of his mouth, while keeping his eyes trained on where Bella continued to growl - her posture tense and ready. "She just scared him – she's so _fast_."

"Oh hell, girl! 'Zat all?" Kai patted his chest theatrically as he peered around his mate. "Lemme cook it for you first, sweetie."

The step forward he took pulled a warning hiss from Bella's lips and – keeping her flashing gaze trained on her 'opponents' - she sprang behind her, landing fluently on the far counter like a cat without so much as a consideration.

"Shit!" Jacob whistled appreciatively.

Both Paul and his Wolf were entranced by her grace. A burning yearning ignited in his groin, leaching fire up into his gut.

Frantically, Paul tamped it back down.

"Price!" Paul bellowed cryptically over his shoulder, making Bella tear her gaze from her adversaries.

"We like it raw," he called in canny answer to Paul's unasked question.

That Were wasn't stupid; of course he could put it together with the help of unnatural senses. Come to think of it, every last one of them could scent the uncooked chicken, it was just one of those little details in a life with their sensitive senses that was relegated to subconscious.

Jacob chuckled softly. "hOh this is the thing she's gonna be the _most_ pissed about," he made a tense attempt at humor while trying to normalize the fact that his best and oldest friend had just blindly leaped 15 feet and was still growling protectively over a meal of raw meat.

It suddenly occurred to Paul the reason that Jacob was so uncharacteristically keyed up in this whole thing (not that there wasn't _plenty_ to be keyed up about): he thought he'd failed her.

Again.

As Alpha he had an immutable need to protect his Pack. And that only went triple for his best friend who'd stood solidly by him through all of his own less-than-glamorous trials and tribulations.

But strangely – whether it was having lost her already once, or the imprint, or simply that Paul might actually be starting to understand this thing called _love_ – he accepted it all effortlessly. Now that they'd found her, a single moment wasted agonizing on regret or second-guesses or self-derision, just meant one less moment he could be at her at her side.

_Helping her through this hell._

Pursing his lips with determination, Paul crossed the kitchen.

Bella's eyes grew wide as she shied away, shielding her little 'delicacy' with her body.

"Shh," he soothed and gave her an easy smile.

Bella blinked a moment and then her body language relaxed as her lips curved in natural response.

"Whatchu got there, little girl?" he murmured slyly as he vaulted up to sit on the counter beside her, hanging his feet over the edge.

Bella actually giggled… at _something_, Paul wasn't sure.

He grinned anyway and patted the counter beside him. Bella paused a moment and the slipped lithely down beside him, wiggling her bare feet and letting her head fall against his shoulder like an exhausted child. With a quiet sigh, she brought the raw chicken-thigh to her lips and took a dainty nibble in bold contrast to the gruesome meal.

_Some things never changed_, Paul chuckled to himself. And that was a damn good thing, as far as he could tell at this point.

The rest of the Pack filed into the kitchen, immersing Bella – and more pointedly he knew, _Paul_ – in the blissful normalcy of chaotic meal preparation. They casually included the enigmatic couple perched in the corner, throwing quips their way as if it were the most natural thing in the world all while Bella, plastered against his side, nibbled away and watched the scene curiously.

But as cooking turned to eating, repartee and then finally clean up, Paul felt the way the waves of pain became more frequent, he felt her head growing heavy against his shoulder, he saw the way her hand shook until she couldn't lift the half-eaten drumstick to her lips.

He closed his eyes dolefully and wrapped his arm around a body that trembled with increasing torment as the day ripened and the sun rose in the sky.

She was _suffering_. Wretchedly, quietly.

Suddenly Bella picked her head up off his shoulders and turned those ethereal eyes on him. Her brow knit earnestly as she studied him a moment.

"Paul," she vocalized in a fallow, barely articulate rasp.

Whether it was the innocence, the promise of more agony - as forewarned by the Were- or something else entirely, it just made his heart _ache_.

A sad smile curved his lips. "Yeah, babe," he whispered, squeezing her to his side and resting his cheek against her hair. "I'm Paul."

'

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><p>'<p>

_Review if you like._


	17. Who I am

_Thank you so much for your kind and interesting notes. I appreciate them so much - they make my week. For real._

_'_

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

'

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><p><strong>Chapter 17 – Who I Am<strong>

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><p>'<p>

She rose from the dark, cold depths up through the scalding boil of tempestuous torture, a ballooning physical pain tugging her ever upwards – passing through clouds of effervescent memories, shifting currents of roiling torment, the swirling chaos of heartache – to surface with a single gasp of biting consciousness.

Bella lay on the warm shores of awareness and panted softly through the pain. There was _always_ pain. Every nerve of a body that was no longer her own sparked and burned like detonating cord for TNT, blazing quickly toward some imminent explosion.

Indistinct voices whispered and rushed around her, following her like bubbly hallucinations caught in her ears. Such strange dreams she'd had: frenetic, confusing and vivid like they'd been fever-induced. But fixed as the fulcrum of all the spiraling insanity, grounding her through all the swirling excruciation, was the handsome face of the man she loved.

Yearning welled up inside her like the tide, overrunning the bounds of her heavy heart and exiting in a pining whimper:

"Paul."

" 'Right here, baby," a deep voice murmured by her ear.

Bella's breath caught in her throat. Squeezing her burning eyes closed for a moment, she struggled with lids that weighed at least 50lbs each. Blinking rapidly in the sunlight, Bella's eyes focused on the face from her dreams, mere inches away: intense black eyes under a furrowed brow… smooth brown skin over defined cheekbones… russet lips pressed together in a straight line of worry.

_Paul_.

With a squeak of surprise, Bella's body moved without her volition: vaulting into the air, somehow instinctually adapting and landing lightly in the center of the room several feet from the bed she'd been apparently laying on. Her breath heaving, Bella's eyes quickly swept her surroundings: an airy, unfamiliar bedroom tastefully furnished with understated simplicity, a mahogany chest of drawers, an old-fashioned wardrobe, a small vanity with an antique pitcher and bowl sitting before a mirror, a shelf with books, a delicate brass double bed…

And _Paul_.

Bella's gaze locked on the vision stretched out over the mattress that was too short for his huge frame. On his side and dressed only in jeans, he was propped on one arm, anxiety defining every last sculptured line of powerful musculature.

He was gorgeous and he was…

**MINE**.

It was if her heart and soul had been pierced and strung on the steel cable of that proclamation, reverberating harshly through her every cell and making her teeth chatter in resonance. Bella blinked rapidly.

"Y-you're …you're _here_…?" she breathed through the suffocating mandate that compelled her foot a step closer to the man on the bed.

Paul's eyes softened with something that looked like relief as he sat up. "Yeah, babe," he whispered, swinging his feet over the side of the bed in a fluid movement. "I'm here."

Bella's breath was coming light and rapid in her chest as her mind spun. Something was different; it was as if everything else in the room – in the world, really – was seen through the blurry tunnel-vision lens of a camera, who's crisp and utter focus was centered on…

_Paul_.

"B-but…" she gasped, her mind desperately scrabbling for any pebbles of reason as her alien foot took another step toward him.

"But-… how-… why-…you're-…" her stammer accelerated until it crashed in a twisted, hopeless wreck. "You're not supposed to be _**here**_!"

Covering her face, Bella slithered to floor as sobs ripped through the pain wracking her body.

Warm burly arms wrapped around her and pulled her to a muscular chest. It felt like she'd suddenly recovered a lost limb. Relief hiccupped over rebellion.

"Shh… babe… I couldn't be anywhere else," his voice choked as Paul pressed his face into her hair.

Bella pushed her face into the silky comfort of his skin. Oh, he smelled so, _so_ good: wild, musky and virile like the shadowy tangle of an autumn forest floor. Bella bit her lip as she tried to keep her wits above the rushing tide of a million conflicting feelings.

She had missed him _so very much_. It was an immutable craving – every second of every day, through the blistering pain, through the dissolution of their imprint, through all the trauma...

But she had done the hardest thing she'd ever attempted for a reason.

She had _left_ for a reason.

"But _**CALEB**_!" Bella shrieked, frantically trying to push away from satin skin that quenched the fires charring her every nerve. "You're supposed to be with **CALEB**!"

Her head reared up, eyes wild as her frayed mind converged in a single imperative. "You're supposed to be **SAFE**!"

Bella lunged to her feet out of his arms, stumbling back a step with the force it took. Her mind idly noted how different this body she inhabited now moved – with a precision and power that was utterly foreign.

"Cay's safe, I _swear_," Paul's voice descended to a silken register that padded her jagged fury. "I _swear_ it, Bella," he continued in a seductive monotone as he stood and took a step toward her.

Bella blinked rapidly as his words seeped into the knot constricting throat, softening it. His tone reminded her of the soothing voice she used on _him_ when his wolf was close to losing control.

Bella's eyes darted between his desperate gaze for a moment as she panted quietly. His distress was palpable and fisted viscerally around her heart, squeezing it out like an old dishrag. But Bella whipped around, poignantly turning her back on him as her fists came up to press against her eyes.

"He'll _never_ be safe until Aro's dead," she whispered into the heavy silence of the room. "And neither will _you_," she added in a hiss that burned her tongue like acid.

"I know," she heard him murmur. "Jasper told me everything."

_Jasper_.

Jasper was the reason her mate was _here_.

_Jasper_ was the reason Paul was now burning in her own private hell. _Instead_ of **safe**…s_he was going to __**kill him**__._

Such a shocking thought barely registered in Bella's protective brain.

"_YOU'RE_ SUPPOSED TO BE **SAFE**!" she shrieked her heartache and then gasped, doubling over with the violent wave of agony that rolled through her body. Bella stumbled several steps under the searing pain that threatened to gut her. She caught herself on the heavy wooden vanity. "_**Safe**_… not _**here**_!" she wheezed as the table shook, making the porcelain bowl and pitcher rattle with the tremors wracking her body.

Everything was lost now.

"Bella…I-," Paul's stammer barely seeped through her roiling emotions.

"_Everything's broken_," she whimpered forlornly. The pain of what she was now crescendoed, making her body seize and her arms splay jerkily out over the small table as she buckled under the weight of it all. The pitcher and bowl were swiped from its surface and crashed to the ground, shattering in poignant metaphor.

Bella's tremors transformed into convulsive lament as she collapsed over her arms on the cool, wooden surface and sobbed bitterly. _"__**I'm**__ broken."_

"Babe," Paul's aching croon prefaced large strong hands slipping over her shoulders. Hands that she loved too much.

Bella gasped. Even through the tee shirt she wore, his touch leached a slickery relief through her veins like an analgesic. It doused the fire that burned deep in her bones and muted pain that emblazoned her every nerve enough that she could lift her head.

Paul's liquid gaze met hers in the mirror hung before her on the wall and Bella's heart did an unhappy flip.

He was suffering.

Bella swallowed thickly and pushed up a bit more off the vanity, compelled to comfort him.

Her own reflection caught her eye and she did a double-take. She didn't even recognize the woman who stared back. Blinking rapidly, she straightened. Oh, it was her face – albeit twisted in despair – but _her eyes!_ They glowed a translucent ice-blue, so light they were haunting.

With a hitching sob, she brought a hand to her cheek, pressing desolate fingertips to her cheekbone as she leaned closer. It was like another being entirely had inhabited her body and was staring back out at her through its eye sockets.

And it was the perfect analogy to the God's honest truth.

With a despondent sniffle, those foreign eyes washed over the rest of her unchanged features that were showcased on an unfamiliar stage of short curls that fell between her jaw and shoulder. _Paul had loved her long hair and that was taken too._ Her fingers shakily swept up to grasp a wild lock in disbelief as her lip quivered.

"I don't even know who I am anymore," Bella rasped hoarsely, tearing her gaze from her reflection to dart up to Paul's somber face towering over her. "Everything's broken," she repeated numbly.

Paul's heartache cast a shadow over his face and he closed his eyes as he gently turned her in his embrace. His hands slipped up to cup her jaw, tipping it up.

"I do," he whispered. "You're _Bella_. My wife, the girl I love, my best friend." His eyes popped open and pierced her soul with their passionate sincerity. "There ain't nothing that can fuckin' break that, babe," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her trembling lower lip.

Bella's eyes darted between his searing gaze for a moment, her mind reeling. "B-but…Caleb isn't safe with Sam."

Paul's brow shot up. "How…?"

Bella's lips curved at his surprise. "I know you," she answered his unasked question. "You'd only leave him with Sam and Emily." Bella's brow furrowed. "He _wouldn't_ make a better father," she added with a quiet heat.

Paul's lips hitched up with private amusement as his hands slipped down over her shoulders on their way to her waist. He lifted her up easily to sit on the vanity. "He's not just with Sam," he murmured. His palms ghosted down over her hips.

Bella's eyes rolled, but seemed to snap back to the man inches before her with an odd compulsion like he was a magnet. "Okay, Sam, Jared, Collin and Seth," she snorted.

A sly smile pulled at her lover's lips. He leaned down and ran his nose up the bridge of hers, placing a light kiss between her eyebrows. "And how did you know that?" he whispered a smile across her hairline.

"Deduction," Bella pulled back to look into his eyes. It had been nothing more than intuition, until she thought about it. But her enhanced senses seemed to process the world in a different, almost subconscious way that was easy to deconstruct if she gave it her attention.

"Deduction, eh?" Paul crooned in a voice of dark chocolate as he stepped between her knees.

"Well," Bella pulled the word over a shaking breath at the chill bumps that raced over her skin at his proximity. "Jake's downstairs, trying to whisper to Leah – but we all know how that goes with that big mouth of his." She raised her voice ever so slightly and magically the deep bass downstairs, that was as loud as if it were in the same room to her new ears, stuttered to a chagrinned halt.

A genuine laugh burst from Paul's lips and his eyebrows raised, prompting her on.

"Embry's smacking his gum…again," she sympathized. (Paul hated the way he chewed and, on numerous occasions, had threatened to murder purveyors of gum to their Packmate.)

"Quil's playing Angry Birds on the iPad," she cocked her head thoughtfully as her gaze flitted briefly to the sky. "And Jake would make Brady come so you don't kill him on the plane," she returned her gaze to Paul's sparkling eyes. "And of course then, Kai would have to come," she smiled. "Oh, and it's his iPad anyway."

"Very good, my dear Watson," Paul smirked appreciatively as his hands came up to comb through her bobbed hair, propping his forearms on her shoulders.

"Sherlock," Bella corrected in a slurr, as she pushed into the soothing feel of his hands raking through her hair.

"Oh-ho-ho… Sherlock, is it?" Paul murmured over a husky chuckle as he leaned in by her temple and drew in a deep breath of her scent. "You don't seem all that broken to me."

The blissful moment of levity that had immersed Bella in the innate comfort of their friendship, was shattered again by reality. "Paul, Caleb's not safe with the Pack," she breathed, trying to pull back and look again into his eyes with her desperation.

But Paul held her fast, taking another step between her knees and leaning into her body as he rubbed his cheek over her hair. "Topher's with 'em," he murmured cryptically.

"Topher?" Bella balked, struggling in his embrace.

With a capitulating sigh, Paul pulled back – but even then his gaze seemed distracted as it washed lazily over her face. "Topher's not just a guy… he's some kinda-…" Paul's gaze snapped to her wide, fearful eyes. "I dunno… something old and supernatural. Maybe like these fairies Jaz's talking about."

Bella's brow dipped. "He's one of the Fae?"

Paul shrugged, seeming unconcerned. "I dunno. He just said he's a 'cousin' or something lame like that. But knocked me on _my_ ass. 'Not what he looks like at all. He's one bad-assed muthafucker," Paul snorted.

Bella opened her mouth to questions.

"Just _trust me,_ little girl," he interrupted. "He'll keep Cay safe, _I know it_," Paul assured her as his hands came down to hold her cheeks with conviction. "We gotta focus on _you_ right now."

Her mouth closed with a soft pop.

"Jaz's gotta shout out to these pansy Fae and said it'll just be another day or so," Paul continued, his thumbs running back and forth over her jaw as he gazed at her with assessing concern. "We're gonna get you fixed."

Bella sucked in a shaking breath as her eyes clenched shut over her attempts at ignoring the chronic pain that swam through her veins like fire, even in her lover's embrace.

"How 'you feelin'?" he murmured softly.

Bella nodded mutely, opening her eyes to his aching concern. "It hurts," she gulped – just acknowledging that made a fresh wave of torment wash over her body. "But it's better with you."

"Good," Paul whispered. "We're gonna get those muthafuckers to fix this shit. But until then, I got another idea."

Bella's burning eyes watered as she nodded.

"Do y'feel this?" he whispered, his other hand coming up to her face to brush back a wild curl from her cheek.

Bella froze in the heavy hypnotic sites of his sensual focus. Like he was moving underwater, his long finger leisurely traced her lips with a lush attention as his eyes lazily trickled down over every feature as if rememorizing her face. Her entire being felt like it bloomed under his touch as his hands curved around her jaw and he leaned slowly forward. His breath was sweet, _so sweet_ over her face.

"Do you feel it?" he murmured huskily, inches from her lips.

How could she _not_? The second he'd centralized his energy – as he did so very well – Bella had felt like he'd flipped a switch on an electromagnet. And she was made of powerless steel.

With a breathy moan Bella tipped her mouth up to his beseechingly. Paul was the moon, and she the tides, irresistibly rising to meet him.

"Yeah, you feel it," his velvet chuckle puffed moist air over her mouth and she inhaled greedily, closing her eyes in anticipation. A wet, quivering tongue darted over the cupid's bow of her upper lip and she gasped, stretching shamelessly up to capture more.

But his hand at her jaw stayed her and Bella's desperate eyes popped open. Paul's half-mast gaze was inches from hers. A wry smile played at his lips as his opposite brow twitched in mischief.

"That's not broken either," he breathed in a voice that made spilled chills down her spine.

Bella swallowed thickly, as her eyelids fluttered with petulant voice in her head that demanded: MINE!

She cleared her throat. "It _was_ broken," Bella whispered hoarsely. Even though she'd barely been conscious over the last days, she'd always been aware that their imprint bond was missing – it was a vital part of even her most primal core.

An echo of pain put a fleeting furrow in his brow and Bella's gaze snapped to his eyes. "Yeah," he croaked. "When you died."

She ghosted her hands up over his muscular arms to rest on his shoulders, longing to comfort that torment in his eyes.

Those intense eyes welled shockingly with tears as he slowly shook his head. "But I still loved you just as much, babe," he whispered.

Bella's heart melted in her chest as her fingers stroked over his cheek to catch a tear that crested his straight lashes. She knew that fear lurked in the unexamined dark corners of his subconscious: that if it hadn't been for the imprint, she'd never have loved him.

"I still love you more every day," she breathed, brushing a tear from his other cheek. "Of my last life and this one too."

He sniffed, rolling his lips over a sad smile.

"But the imprint came back?" she asked quietly. This pull was nothing like she'd ever felt before, but it harkened back to those tumultuous days, years ago, when they'd first met and just being near him made her want to crawl inside his skin. It was an suffocating place that was almost unbearable in its craving.

Paul's swallow made his Adam's apple bob as he reached out to trace her cheek with a calloused finger. "When I looked into those eyes…" His gaze found hers. "Those new, sky eyes of yours…" his whisper disintegrated on his tongue as his own black eyes pushed into crescents of wonder.

"You imprinted again." Bella stated quietly.

"I think we _both_ did," he breathed.

Bella blinked rapidly for a moment. _Ah, suddenly it all made sense. _

"W-Werewolves," Bella choked on the word. She still couldn't think of herself as anything but human. "Werewolves imprint?"

Paul visibly pushed more complex and melancholy emotions behind one of his best sly panty-dropping smiles. "You did," he purred.

Bella sniffed as her body melted into a puddle of sticky want under that expression.

"So I want to ask you something," Paul's hands slipped down to hold her shoulders, as he pulled back slightly. "I want seal the bond again," his eyes darted between hers intensely. "_Now_."

"_No_," she breathed automatically before her mind had even processed his words.

Blinking, Bella pressed her lips together as her nose prickled with sudden tears. She _knew_ what he was asking – he wanted to share her pain as was one of the gifts of their former imprint. All the implications tumbled in her mind like storm clouds in a summer sky.

"Paul…" Bella whispered pleadingly, letting her hands drop to her thighs. She could see it in his eyes – just as she knew him oh, so very well. He knew her too.

He pulled in a harsh breath through his nose as he took an jerking step back, shoving both hands through his hair.

Bella's body mourned the loss of his touch and rebelled with a violent spasm of agony. She gasped, catching herself on her thighs.

"See!" Paul's sharp eyes skewered her. "If just touch helps-…"

"Paul!" Bella interrupted, panting over the pain. "I-I _can't_ share this. It's-… I-.." she collapsed her face in her hands.

She'd been lulled into comfort in his presence, but Aro and all of his nefarious threats still loomed like the blackest shadow over this stolen moment of bliss. She _still_ had a bargain with the devil – to buy her heart's survival by selling her soul - and if the Fae fixed her, then she could go and fulfill it. It was a cruel, cruel twist that had brought him back into her life only to help her orchestrate her death.

Bella swallowed thickly as her shoulders rounded under the unbearable weight of both physical pain and hopeless fate.

As if he could read her morbid thoughts, a low growl scurried through the room and suddenly she was being pulled into Paul's arms, a frantic anxiety jerking his movements. Bella barely had time to gasp at the relief that came with that touch, when, without a word, one hand fisted in her hair and roughly pulled her head back.

Paul's mouth smothered her whimper.

His lips were like an intravenous injection of Ecstasy, flooding her body with a potent desire. His aggressive mouth softened into long, deep pulls as he took another step between her knees and pulled her body flush against his with possessive hands. The part of her that flailed and struggled to keep her head above the rushing passion, was razed by molten want and she arched into him, her hands reaching up to dig into his flexing shoulders.

He. Felt. So. Good.

Her mouth bloomed under his demanding lips as her legs opened instinctively, muggy desire pooling heavy between her thighs. Paul's tongue twisted leisurely, mapping her mouth in contrast to the fervid play of his hands over her back. A large palm slipped down over her tailbone and pressed her to the thick, hard column of his desire.

Bella moaned wantonly into his mouth.

He broke the kiss with a gasp, his lips suckling, tongue licking over her cheek, over jaw, stumbling and staggering toward her ear.

"You can tell me to stop anytime," he murmured sultry and low into her ear before he pulled the lobe between erotic teeth.

Bella groaned as her entire left side exploded into chills Her whimper was unimpressive. "S-ssstop…"

" 'Didn't say I'd listen, babe," Paul chuckled richly and released her ear as his lips sought the hollow between her jaw and neck.

With a gasp, Bella tipped her head to the side, offering her neck in lupine sensual surrender. She was drowning in the turbulent surf of a craving so primal that her mind simply shut down as instinct took over. With a low moan, she brazenly rubbed her crotch over his length in rolling undulations.

"Yeeahh, babe…" he groaned in breathy approval as his lips swept over her neck. "Mine," he hissed slickly over her skin as his lips captured her racing pulse.

At the first delectable bite of his teeth on the tendon of her neck, a searing geyser of lust burst through her body, pushing her breath through her gritted teeth and a growl – far too animalistic to be human – ripped through the room.

Paul tore his lips from her neck, wild, yellow eyes washing over her in feral relish. "Shit, that's so fucking sexy."

_Bella _had made that sound?

With barely a consideration, she pushed him from where her fingernails dug fiercely into his shoulder.

Paul stumbled back from the abrupt force, his knees hitting the bed, making him sit heavily in surprise.

Bella cocked her head with a slow smile and pounced after him. Soft keening purrs rippled through a body that was burning with white-hot want as she crawled into his lap, pushing his shoulders back. Eyes locked on hers, Paul leaned back slowly, his arms encircling her waist possessively.

Which suited her just fine.

Bella dragged her crotch over his arousal which throbbed against thick material of his jeans as she crept up his chest. She barely noticed him rip the tee shirt she was wearing, up the center, tearing it impatiently from her arms

The enthralling feel of satin on silk made pulled a desirous moan from her lips as she writhed over him, rapturous skin on skin, pressing her face over his quivering pec.

He smelled _so good_. Dark and delicious: male, mate… _mine_.

His dark nipple set in that gorgeous slick skin caught her feral attention and her eyes darted to the erect nub. Dipping down she licked over it with an overt eroticism and watched in pleasure as chill bumps raced outward over his chest like a starburst.

Bella followed them with her tongue, lapping over his defined musculature, laving his collar bone with humming pleasure, suckling in the hollow of his throat, tracing over the prominent swell of his Adam's apple, inhaling the skin under his jaw. Her teeth grazed over the stubble of his chin on her way to his mouth.

And. She. Kissed. Him. Senseless.

Paul's hands were clasping her waist covetously as his hips bucked against her, each tantalizing thrust pushing pleasure in a low purr against her ravishing lips. She kissed him - deep and wanting – as his hungry breath sprinted ahead, puffing unevenly through his nose over her cheeks.

Breaking the kiss, Bella drew his breath ravenously into her lungs as her hands smoothed his short hair back from his face over and over.

"Mine," she panted, her eyes darting over his impassioned expression: eyes half-mast and unfocused, nostrils quivering, his tongue running sexily over his kissed-senseless swollen lips.

"Yep," he whispered, his eyes locking with hers from under heavy lids. A ghost of a smirk hitched his sensual mouth and his hands slipped down to grasp her butt, grinding her into his steely desire.

Bella choked with passion, tipping her head up as she felt her entire body buckle from the pressure and she purred low and longing.

"Gimme, baby," he crooned, separating her ass cheeks and pushing himself rhythmically right into the molten apex of her thighs.

Right where she wanted him.

_Oh, and she wanted him._

_Now._

With a hoarse moan, she fell back down to his chest, raining desperate kisses over his face, his jaw, drawn by some invisible silken cord to the side of his neck where his pulse jumped like a jackhammer. Her fingernails sunk into the skin of his shoulder as, with a low growl, her lips seized his pulse, suckling rabidly as her body exploded in a scarlet carnal heat.

Paul's hips jerked up violently with the gravelly roar that her teeth pulled from his very core and the most satisfying warmth imaginable squirted down her throat. So very sweet… so-…

Bella froze.

Panting through her nose, she blinked against blackened tunnel vision as she fought her way to the surface of impassioned delirium. Jerking up, her frightened gaze locking on the crimson, oozing oval at the side of Paul's neck in horror and her shaking hand came up to wipe over her lips slick with his blood.

She'd _bitten_ him!

"Hey heyyy, little girl," his voice was still roughened by passion as a large hand wrapped around her wrist.

Bella's gaze snapped to Paul's concerned eyes. "No!" she gasped as her body lurched off of him to unsteady feet. "Oh my God!"

"Babe, it's just the wolf, it's totally-…"

"No," she shook her head vigorously.

A sob rose up in her and she clapped her palm over her gaping mouth and then ripped it away, holding it out and staring at it with revulsion. The sick thing was is that the taste of his blood on her hands, in her mouth, on her lips was … _arousing_. She pressed her lips together to mute her sob as hot tears burned her cheeks.

"_Bella,"_ Paul whispered.

She looked up through watery eyes to where he's sat up on the side of the bed, cataloging the damage in horror: raking scratches down his arms, two sets of five, deep half-moon punctures on each shoulder… and a flagrant bite mark on the tendon on the side of his neck. Blood was trickling down his chest in rivulets diverted by his cut musculature, pooling over his collarbone, drizzling down his solar plexus.

Bella's sanity – stretched thin as it was over the incessant pain, worry and the trauma of the last week – popped with a visceral flutter.

With a desolate wail, Bella turned and raced blindly out of the room. She slammed into the wall, crumpling against it as she sobbed.

"Bella…"

With a cry, she ran down the hall finding the stairs and taking them two at a time.

She _was_ a monster… just like the Were had said.

Bella had no idea how she got there, but suddenly she was throwing herself at where Jacob had stood from the couch, his face furrowed in protective concern.

She wept against his warm chest as his arms wrapped around her and his hands smoothed soothingly down her back. His skin was sweet and smooth and rippled with a comforting power that somehow seemed to blissfully contain her.

It was only then that she realized she was dressed only in a pair of shorts several sizes too big that barely hung on her hips because the waist was rolled over several times.

With a gasp, she took a half step back, wrapping her arms over her breasts as Jacob blithely caught the shirt Brady had whipped off.

"Jake! You have to –… " Bella hiccupped as he helped her slip into the huge shirt.

"What'd he do?" his voice was low and dangerous as he pulled her back to his wild heart.

"No! You have to protect _him_ from _me_!" she cried as she tipped her head up and her eyes darted frantically between that narrowed gaze.

"_Bella_…" Paul's voice choked from the stairs.

Bella whipped around, but Jake kept her tight against his side with a muscled arm.

"See! _Look what I did!"_ she wailed as Paul took the last stair. The blood was still oozing over his chest and the marks of her nails were vivid against the perfect teak of his skin. His body was vibrating as he gripped the banister.

Jacob looked down at her with a sultry smile. "Dunno, looks kinda fun, Bells," he chuckled, pulling her to his chest.

"You have one second before I rip those arms off," Paul's voice rasped murderously. "One," he counted and lunged across the room.

In a head spinning movement Jacob pushed Bella away from him with hissed command, "Leah, take 'er!"

He held placating hands in the air.

Paul stopped inches from him, hands curled into quivering fists, his breath panting harshly through flared nostrils.

Jacob didn't back down. "Brady, take Kai to the kitchen," he murmured evenly out of the side of his mouth.

The two men hastened to comply as Paul's lip lifted from gleaming canines. "_This_ is why you want her to have a choice, huh _Jake_?" Paul hissed like steel rending. " 'Think she's still gonna pick _you_?"

"You fucking idiot," Jacob growled. "She's my _sister_, I don't think of her like that."

"Part of you does," Paul spat viciously, foam spraying from his sneer.

Bella followed Paul's glance to see the telltale bulge in Jacob's jeans and she choked whipping around and pressing her face into Leah's shoulder.

"Jesus, Paul! I'm not dead!" he yelled back defensively. "… or imprinted," he added with a snort. "She's running hot!"

Bella clenched her eyes shut, mortified. Come to think of it, she could also clearly smell the musky (and deliriously delectable) scent of Paul's virility, even in Leah's protective embrace.

And it _was_ very arousing – even in the midst of this chaos it hit her like sucker-punch.

She knew good and well by now that sexuality was acknowledged and accepted – along with the rest of the supernatural craziness - with none of the same shame as in human culture. The lupine marking of a mate, pheromones, breeding cycles, copious sex…they were all part of the common every day Pack experience that they thankfully tried to spare the humans in their midst. Scent was a powerful thing, make no mistake. Especially to Wolves.

"And you are too," Jacob snorted. "Right, Lee?"

Leah stilled the comforting strokes down Bella's back. "Yup," she affirmed from a smirk and then winked at Bella.

"Brady?" Jacob called to the kitchen with a goading grin aimed at Paul's eye-roll.

"Yes he is," came the reply, followed by Kai's teasing outrage and the sound of a slap. "Ow!"

A ghost of a smile flitted over Bella's anguish as she turned fully back around, Leah leaving a casual arm slung over her shoulder. Jacob was the consummate expert at diffusing potentially disastrous situations in the volatile, hormone-driven Pack.

_Thank God._

Paul tore his gaze from staring Jacob down. "Bella," he murmured, his voice still gravelly and raw. "You've gotta let me help…"

Bella took an automatic step back and Leah's arm fell to her side. Her eyes washed over the bloody marks she'd made on her lover and she shook her head.

"I want you to be _safe_… I can't- …I just want you to go home to Cay," she whispered as she rang her hands in Brady's shirt. _"Please."_

"_No fucking way,"_ Paul expelled a growl and took a step toward her. Jacob's arm shot out across his chest.

"Paul! Aro is _real_! He'll _kill_ you," her gaze panned Embry, Quil, and the others in the room as her agitation rose. "He'll kill all of you! You _can't_ take him down… He's got thirty-six leeches! THIRTY-SIX!" Bella's voice vaulted into a shriek that reverberated in agony through her pain-wracked body. "Not newborns, but full-grown … all with _powers!_ You- …y-you don't understand-…!" She doubled over with the pain for a moment, panting.

"I'm _not_ gonna let you do this!" Paul yelled back hotly. "You're gonna go to these muthafuckin' fairies and get fixed… then _you're going home!"_

"No!" Bella's head snapped up, her eyes flashing as a foreign rage charged through her veins. Her lips peeled back from her teeth. "I'm going to get '_fixed_' and give him what he wants…" her hands fisted at her side.

"And then I'm gonna _find a way to __kill__ him,"_ she hissed.

Paul threw his head back with a bellow of rage as Jacob grappled with his infuriated body. With a flailing snarl, Paul twisted out of his grap and lunged, slamming both fists down in fury on the huge oak table that ran the length of the room. It groaned and collapsed under the assault. _"_I'm not gonna watch you **die**_…again!"_ he roared. "Don't you get it? ! I **CAN'T** LOSE YOU!"

"**OUTSIDE!"** Jacob's bass sent a rippling shockwave of power through the room.

Paul turned on him and bared his teeth with a ruthless snarl.

Jacob held his gaze, his eyes flashing yellow as he took a threatening step forward. _"Get outside, fucker,"_ he hissed this time, low and coarse and dangerous.

Paul took a menacing step toward him, his whole body vibrating, but Jacob drew himself up to his full Alpha height, squaring his shoulders. "_Outside_," he hashed the word through gritted teeth.

Bella had collapsed on the couch, trying to gulp down her sobs as her whole body blistered in the flames of pain and grief for the suffering she was bringing to her mate.

Paul glared at him, baring his teeth savagely and Jacob growled, taking a steely step toward him.

Paul visibly tried to hold his enraged gaze, struggling under the weight of his Alpha's command. Then with a gulping gasp, he tucked his head, turning furiously on his heel. With a glance at Bella – that showcased the wretched torment and heartache that lurked under the rage -he stalked toward the door.

Bella brought a fist to her mouth to mute her sob. The only thing that kept her from taking it all back and running into the arms of her imprint, was the terror for his safety. Better to do this quick.

_"Paul,"_ she whimpered forlornly. _"I'm sorry." _

Paul turned at the door with a rebellious growl, but Jacob again roared, "**OUTSIDE**!" as he prowled threateningly after him.

Paul slammed his fist into the already decimated doorway to the porch beyond, making the whole house shudder with the force.

"Lee, take care of her," Jacob hissed out of the side of his mouth.

As Paul crossed the porch toward the yard, Bella heard a voice she recognized a little too well.

"Who knew she was such a _spicy_ little thing-…" the nasal quip was interrupted by a crack as Paul threw his fist into the face of the Were who was apparently sitting on the large porch. Through the window, Bella saw both him and a chair careen through the railing and out into the yard with a crash and the splintering of wood.

"_That was the stupidest thing you've done since being born,"_ Jacob's truculent snarl followed as their Alpha pounced after the Were, his tenuous control exploding like a neutron bomb.

"**JAKE!"** Paul bellowed snatching his arm and yanking him back, mid-air. "C'mon, asshole." Paul jerked his chin toward the green rolling hills beyond and then peeled off his shorts.

Jacob growled furiously, but followed suit and moments later two huge wolves - chocolate and grey - sprinted out over the moors.

"I think they're finally starting to like each other," Leah chuckled, going for light.

Bella glanced at her friend beside her on the couch and then collapsed her face in her hands as the tears finally burst free of her desperate hold.

He'd left. _Paul had left. _Maybe it was better this way.

_What a disaster:_ Paul was _suffering_ and both he and Jacob were teetering dangerously close to the edge of their control. The Pack was in mortal danger, and she only had…

Bella looked up through her tears. "What day is it?" she asked Leah.

"Thursday – 'bout 2:00," Leah answered as she reached out a hand and rubbed it down her back.

Bella sucked a pained breath through her teeth and Leah snatched her fingers back with a mumbled "sorry." Her skin was starting to hurt and Leah's touch felt like a torch. She was probably already starting to Change again.

Bella collapsed over her thighs with a hopeless hitching sob. She only had _one week_ left before Aro expected her back… and human…

The insolent gaiety of the Angry Birds theme song spun into the room – with an oddly resetting effect - and Bella lunged to her feet, covering her face as she took a long steeling breath.

"Shut that fucking thing off or I'm gonna snap it in half," Leah growled.

"Hey!" a sassy voice complained from the kitchen.

Bella ignored the familiar – and comforting - antics, and crossed the room toward the pained groans coming from outside.

"I'm _so_ glad Jake picked me," she heard Embry chuckle. "I wouldn't have missed this-…"

"Shut up!" Quil, Brady, Leah _and_ Kai admonished in unison.

Out on the porch, Bella saw the bloody Were, lying in the grass amid the smashed remnants of an easy chair. Without even thinking, Bella jogged down the steps. A hand on her arm made her whip around with cry of pain at where Leah had followed.

"It's okay," she assured her Packmate and turned back to the man bleeding in the grass. She knelt beside him with a furrowed brow.

"Well hullo, gorgeous," the Were gritted out impudently through his obvious pain. His face was shattered… but eerily healing before her eyes.

With a disbelieving sniff, Bella grasped the hem of Brady's shirt and gingerly dabbed at the blood on his cheek. "I'm sorry," she sucked the words through her teeth in empathy.

The Were's eyes snapped open and narrowed sharply on her.

Bella ignored him as her gaze panned over his shackles. "What the heck is-…?"

"Wait!" Leah wasn't quick enough to intercept Bella's impulsive hand darting out to the twisted candle stick around his wrists.

With a hoarse cry, Bella snatched her fingers back.

Turning her hand around she watched angry blisters raise across her fingers where they had barely brushed the metal and closed her eyes for a moment.

_Silver_.

She was a _Werewolf_ now. The real kind.

Bella hung her head for a moment and then looked up at Leah crouched beside her. "Take them off," she said numbly.

"What?" Leah balked.

"_Please_… just take them off," Bella repeated, idly shaking her burning fingers in the air and then turning back to the Were's bloody face. "I don't want to force _anyone_ to be here," she murmured.

"Jake's gonna –…" Embry began and Bella looked up sharply to where the others had followed her out into the yard. The three other wolves were standing uncomfortably around Leah and herself, Kai sitting on the porch steps.

"I'll deal with Jacob Black," Bella grumbled, returning to mop up the Were's bloody face.

"_Price_, you'd better fucking behave yourself," Quil growled as Leah tentatively began bending his make-shift bindings.

"What?" the Were crooned. "I'm _always_ the consummate gentleman."

"Price?" Bella glance up at the younger wolf.

"His name's Aiden Price," Leah provided in a grunt as she slipped the shackles off his wrist and then began with the ones binding his ankles.

Bella returned to the Were's gaze with a raised brow. "That's a heck of a lot less dramatic than 'the Grey Mocker,' huh?" she snorted. "Easier though."

He gave her a saccharine smile as he rubbed his wrists and sat up. He snatched his legs back as Leah freed them, and Bella stood. Just in case.

Aiden peeled himself off the grass and gracefully unfolded to his feet, stretching indolently. "That's immeasurably better," he sighed with a grin to the four wolves who had instinctively slipped between him and the two humans.

Or, the human and _the other Were,_ Bella supposed with a mental sigh.

"Aiden, you're free to go," Bella announced tiredly with a flick of her hand.

Those strange grey eyes snapped back to her and he cocked his head wolvishly. "However do you do it?"

Bella blinked. "Do what?"

Aiden switched his weight to one hip as he considered her. "Stay so disgustingly humane?" he spat.

Bella rolled her eyes and turned her back on him, taking several steps toward where Kai had stood on the porch.

"Bella?" Aiden called, and she turned back around. With a glance at the wolves he took a step toward her.

"That's enough, dickface," Embry grumbled blocking his path with his huge body.

Bella turned completely around with an expectant raise to her brow.

"I-I'm sorry," he began in an uncharacteristic murmur that stuttered over novel sincerity. "I-I didn't mean to do it, you know. I just-… It-…" his words petered into uncomfortable silence.

Bella nodded curtly and started to turn back around.

"A word?" he hastened.

With a glance at Leah's stern expression, Bella nodded anyway and took the several steps toward him. "It's okay," she admonished the other wolves who immediately crowded them both. "I mean, what's he going to do to me now?" she laughed bitterly.

The Were panned the four wolves in irritation. "_Alone_?"

"No fucking way," Leah hissed.

"Can you just give us some space, please?" Bella petitioned.

Leah glanced down, her hand automatically darting out intending to touch her and then hesitating at Bella's wince.

Wolves were all about touch, she knew, but Bella's skin just couldn't take it. Pursing her lips, Leah snatched it back away.

" 'Kay… we'll stay on the porch," she murmured, her gaze running over Bella's face in assessment. Jerking her chin to the others, she stalked toward the steps.

Bella turned back to the Were.

He shifted uncomfortably and licked his bruised, bloody lips. "Ah… how are you managing?" he asked softly, in his light British lilt.

Bella's brow shot up in surprise; she certainly hadn't expected any kind of concern from him. "Um," she wrapped her arms around her middle. "There's a lot of…_pain_," she grimaced. She was trying her best to ignore the chronic agony that made every last nerve in her body feel like it was being tied in fiery knots.

But it was becoming increasingly difficult as the minutes ticked on.

Aiden pressed his lips together with a curt nod. "It will begin again soon…" he murmured.

"It already has," Bella hissed through her teeth as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself, wishing futilely that it could hold herself together.

The Were swallowed thickly. "You know, you've bludgeoned me with that velvet hammer into somewhat of a change of heart," he sniffed with a ghost of a snarky smile on his lips. "I've decided to help you with whatever paltry ways are at my disposal."

A slow smile bloomed on Bella's lips. This just might be worth all this pain.

"And to that end," he continued, flicking his hair off his collar prissily. "I would advise that you have another choice that you may wish to consider."

Bella raised a skeptical brow.

Aiden smacked his lips. "As you are, you pose the gravest risk to Aro," he murmured cryptically.

Bella's brow furrowed. Was he suggesting _she stay a __Were__?_

"So," he drawled on without pause. "I wouldn't think it possible to control the Beast in enough time to do anyone much good… but," he paused, his gaze darting between her eyes with an odd intensity. "I'd have never thought you possible either."

Bella's gaze dipped uncomfortably at such a comment. Compliment?

The Were cleared his throat. "And… ah, _shagging_ that Big Bad Wolf of yours, might help to that end," he purred mischievously.

Bella looked up in mortified shock.

Aiden's lips peeled back in a toothy grin as he folded his hands before him. "I mean if what I've heard from these brutes bears any merit at all."

Bella blushed furiously around her glare.

"You're so adorable," Aiden chuckled wickedly, reaching up a hand….

Bella intercepted it with lightning reflexes. She threw his wrist away with a petulant growl.

"Well, I'd say I've done enough damage for one day," he crooned sarcastically as he dusted his hands off on his jeans. "Off for a snack and a quick freshen-up."

Bella wrapped her arms around her middle again.

"Oh, and the more red meat you eat during the day – preferably raw – the easier it is to control the Beast as the moon rises," he remarked casually as he straightened his shirt.

Bella wrinkled her nose in distaste.

The Were chuckled and then his hand darted out to pinch her chin, surprising her this time. "You're simply sweet enough to eat, luv," he leered.

"Stop," Bella complained, batting away his hand.

"Right-o," he grinned. "I'll be back before sunset. 'Have to do my best for my little Packlet of two now, eh?"

Bella's lips warred with a smile. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"Don't mention it," he snorted pompously. "_Please_," he added. " 'Makes this whole sordid business of altruism far more palatable." He gave her a humorous wink.

Bella sniffed turning toward the stairs where the wolves were watching the interchange with comically identical expressions of confused annoyance.

"Cheerio!" he called mockingly (of course) to the others on the porch.

"Corn flake!" Embry replied in his best (which wasn't very good) British accent.

"Froot Loop!" Quil echoed.

Leah delivered a two fisted punch that met each mark while Bella took the first step with heavy feet. She felt like a vise was slowly being screwed down over the top of her head with a weighty, aching pain.

Ignoring the banter around her – being nervously staged in an attempt at reassurance, she was fairly certain – she trudged back into the house. She had a lot to think about. Too bad her brain felt like it had been lobotomized, doused in fuel and then lit on fire.

With a heavy sigh, her gaze panned the huge room. Like her - like all of them - it was showing the wear and tear of the trauma and drama of this hell with its chaos, smashed table and destroyed door. Good thing they had the Cullen's blood money to pay for it.

With barely a consideration, Bella leaped up on the large table in the corner feeling inexplicably drawn to the highest perch on the edges of the room. It felt safe.

And it was exactly where Jasper had sat, she could smell it.

"Where's Jasper?" she called tiredly to the room.

"He's renting a room in town," Leah provided quietly, watching her with concerned eyes.

Bella nodded limply and pulled her knees to her chest, letting her head hang over them as another wave of pain rushed through, veritably skinning her alive.

For minutes, hours or days – Bella wasn't sure – she sat, perched on the table and pressed into the corner, panting and trying to ride wave after wave of torment while her bloated mind reeled with all that had happened. Paul's distress, the Were's suggestion, the Pack's unease; it pulled her under, drowning her in troubled seas like cement shoes. Only Paul's assurance that Caleb was safe – for the moment- gave her any measure of peace.

She trusted him.

Of course her mate was front and center to each and every thought and worry she had. She missed him with a deep, pining ache, but she would lay down her life for him a million times over – a fact that was strangely multiplied many times over in her current incarnation. She felt so _furiously…murderously… _protectiveof him, their son, their Pack that it was tortuous.

More pain upon pain.

But, worse, a chilling realization was beginning to eat at her very soul with the callous cruelty of frostbite: she could save Paul's life or his sanity.

But she'd never be able save them _both_.

Bella's heart constricted painfully in her chest and she whimpered.

"Bella," a soothing low voice murmured at her side.

She looked up to see a tall, handsome and muscular man offering her a glass of water.

"Thanks, Jake," she sighed reaching out to take the glass.

His brow furrowed in concern. "I'm Brady," the wolf corrected quietly.

Bella blinked and the glass fell from her fingers to be caught midair by his preternatural reflexes.

"I-I'm sorry! I-…I-…" She pushed her hand through her hair as her face crumpled in agony. "Oh God," she breathed.

"Shh, It's okay," he soothed.

Bella collapsed her face in her hands, pressing her forehead into her knees as despair leaked through the unbearable pain in qiet tears.

"I never know who I am," she wept.

"_We_ know… and it hasn't changed, Bella," the man whispered and she felt a large hand smooth sweetly over her hair.

"Li-li," she heard him softly call. "We need to get Paul. It's starting again."

'

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	18. What Lurks in the Dusk

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_Thanks for the notes. I'll try to hit you back this time. RL is pretty intense right now, but that's not what you came to hear about... we're here to escape all that. :-) Next chap should be up soon._

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_Word of the day - __Cur__: a mongrel dog, especially a worthless or unfriendly one._

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 20 - What Lurks in the Dusk<strong>

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It was impossible to watch.

Jacob covered his face with hands that shook as Bella's guttural screams shredded the peaceful country dusk. He turned his back on the woman laid out by the hearth, writhing in the twisted blankets as her bones audibly broke and refused over and over while her imprint helplessly watched. Tears streamed shockingly down Paul's rough, masculine features gouged by anguish.

Jacob's eyes darted to the Were, sitting in that favored spot in the corner – perched on the table with his knees drawn up to his chest – gasping for breath with his head propped back against the wall. He was the perfect (and hardly innocent) victim on whom Jacob could expend his powerless rage. He lunged toward him, grabbing his shirt in both fists and shook him violently.

"Watch, motherfucker!" he snarled.

Price cracked open his eyes, staring numbly into Jacob's fury and he yanked him to within inches of murderously bared teeth. "I want you to watch what you did to her," Jacob hissed, spittle spraying over the man's face.

The Were swallowed awkwardly in Jacob's iron grasp and agreed with the slightest dip to his chin. "It's taking too long," he rasped.

Jacob's gaze snapped back to those eerie grey eyes.

"I think she's fighting it," he whispered, his craggy brow furrowed in concern.

"JAAAASSSSPERRR!" Bella's bloodcurdling screech rent the room in two as she arched off the floor with audible snapping pain.

"_Jesus_, where is he?" Jacob murmured hoarsely, throwing the Were roughly away as he turned back to the room. He shoved both hands through his hair. This only human word had risen to the surface of her excruciation over the last half hour and Paul had finally relented and told them to call him – albeit only minutes ago. But minutes passed like days when his best friend, his _sister_, was thrashing across the floor in unspeakable pain.

Paul had fallen over his thighs now, his entire body jerking with ugly sobs while Bella's limbs twisted with sickening cracks. The scene was too horrifying and at the same time, too intimate to witness.

In fact, he couldn't bear it.

Jacob strode briskly toward the kitchen. Throwing over a chair in his way in the dining area, he paused at the doorway, taking stock of the five around the large marble island in identical postures. If he didn't know better he'd have thought they were praying – leaning over elbows propped on the counter, heads hanging dejectedly.

Maybe they should be. Jacob had never been formally religious, but he was at the point where he was seriously beginning to reconsider.

When Jacob and Paul had returned after a run that let off steam as well as gave the two some time to discuss a few things that needed discussing, Bella had already begun her descent into insanity. As the afternoon wore on, she struggled and stuttered her way back through the heartbreaking transformation into that endearingly innocent cub who was as gentle as Bella herself. Even when her mind had been whittled and stripped down to that of an animal, her nature was one of peace, not anger.

Paul was another story all together. His mate's vulnerability had jacked up his Wolf's protective rage a million times over. She would've probably begun to venture out from Paul's shadow to the rest of the Pack, but anytime any of them approached her, Paul nearly lost it.

Jacob didn't blame him.

"Chica, you doin' okay?" Jacob asked his lover.

Leah looked up with red eyes that –even knowing her tender heart as he did - were startling in that tough façade of hers. She nodded with a sniffle and then hung her head again as another tortured shriek tore through the house. Every last being in the room tensed in empathy as the screeches petered out into piteous whimpers. Jacob reeled with his heart's ache, catching himself on the doorframe as he closed his eyes.

The understated purr of a Mercedes engine made him look up.

"Finally!" Quill met his gaze and vocalized the thought on every last tongue.

Jacob turned on his heel and was yanking open the front door just as Jasper was reaching for the knob.

"Fuck, what took you so long," Jacob grumbled.

Wisely declining to comment, Jasper simply related with neither excuse nor preamble, "I heard from 'em. The Fae responded."

Jacob shoved his hand through his hair with a nod. "That was fast, we'll talk about it later," he murmured.

None of it mattered unless Bella survived the night. And it wasn't looking like she would.

Jasper's gaze searched his anguished and then darted past him into the house. "How's she doin'?" he asked quietly, anxiety pulling his drawl taut.

"JAASSSPERRR!" Bella shrieked in eerie answer, and the vampire slipped by Jacob into the house.

Paul's tear-stained face jerked up and he bared his teeth with savagery.

Jasper's eyes cut over to Jacob. "Forgive me, but I reckon I know just what'd happen if I go anywhere near that boy feelin' like he's feelin' right about now," he murmured out of the side of his mouth.

Jacob nodded tersely as Paul congealed into a threatening crouch, moving between his writhing mate and the leech with a rumbling growl.

Jacob knew Paul was out of his mind with grief and no amount of reasoning was going to get them very far. He glanced at the five faces that were peering back at him from the kitchen doorway and jerked his chin. "C'mon, guys," Jacob grumbled. "Bray, you give it a try first. If that don't work, we're just gonna have to strong arm 'em."

Brady soberly nodded and shimmied past Quil and Kai. Embry protectively followed their Omega, but Jacob stayed him with a hand across his chest. "Wait," he murmured.

"Paul, can you let Jasper see her? She's asking for him," Brady asked casually in his dusky voice as if they were doing nothing more than chatting in the park.

His instincts were good, Paul would be able to scent manipulation a mile away. And fear. Both could be fatal for Brady in a moment of Paul's uncontrolled wrath.

Paul's heated eyes bored into his Packmate with a petulant snap of jaws.

Brady continued his loose, easy pace toward him. "C'mon man," he tipped his head toward the couch. "We all love her, we won't let anything happen."

Bella pushed an aching moan through her teeth as her muscles rippled down her body under the sweat drenched tee shirt. "Jass… Jass… Jass," she chanted in whimpers with each panting breath.

Brady reached out and clapped his hand on Paul's quivering shoulder as he met he tormented gaze. "She's in so much pain, Paul. Just give her this," he breathed, his brow crumpling in empathy as he glanced at his sister on the floor.

Paul expelled harsh breath from his cheeks and ripped his shoulder out of Brady's grasp. He stalked toward the couch without a word and collapsed on it, running trembling hands through his hair as he propped his elbows on his thighs.

"Make it quick," his rough-hewn mandate was barely intelligible the Wolf was so close.

Brady glanced back at Jacob's curt approving nod and the wolf trailed after Paul to the couch. He hopped up on the back of it, resting his feet on the cushions beside Paul, close enough to soothe with his innate serenity as Omega, but far enough that Paul didn't feel like a pussy.

That Brady was pretty damn good.

The Were –all but forgotten in the corner – cleared his throat. Jacob's gaze snapped up with a minute nod. He was finally starting to learn a little fucking respect…

"Ahm, the 'leech's' scent will hasten the Change," he nasalized using their epithet as a way of ingratiating himself or pissing them off, Jacob wasn't sure. "Perhaps that's why she wants him?"

"She doesn't know that," Paul growled to his lap.

Jacob turned to where Jasper's face was etched in anguish as he watched Bella's head whip back and forth while her unnaturally twisted body arched off the ground. _"Jesus,"_ he gasped meeting Jacob's gaze with his horror.

Jacob nodded in agreement. "It's been like this for almost three hours," he rasped hoarsely.

"Jass… Jass…" Bella panted.

Swallowing thickly Jasper took several steps into the room. As he neared, Bella's moans frayed into screams and her entire body convulsed. Jacob glanced at where Paul was sitting ramrod straight on the couch and vibrating dangerously, while Brady was frantically whispering by his ear.

Jasper knelt at Bella's side and she seemed to screech her agony at his proximity. Paul's tenuous control snapped and he lunged toward him, but Jacob was behind him in a second jerking him into a vise-like grip around his chest.

"**STOP**," Jacob boomed, and the steel hawsers of the Command wrapped viscerally around his Packmate, freezing his movement. "Wait, dude. Let's let it play…" Jacob gasped as he struggled with their best fighter, flailing dangerously on the edge of his control.

On the floor, not fifteen feet away, Bella suddenly turned her head, wild eyes stained by broken vessels locking on Jasper. Her hand shot out and fisted in his shirt, tugging him toward her with such force that he had to catch himself on a hand on the floor.

"It's me, darlin'," he choked over both her death grip and his own distress.

Her gaze raked, wide-eyed over Jasper's face as her lips trembled, struggling to form words. "Jass..D-do it," her thick-tongued rasp was barely articulate.

Paul stopped struggling against Jacob's grip.

"Hush darlin'," Jasper's alabaster hand smoothed back over her hair

Gritting her teeth Bella squeezed her eyes shut as her body shuddered with another wave of pain. "_I can't_!" she shrieked throwing her head back with a crack into the floor. "_Do it_!..." she gulped arduously. "You **PROMISED**! DOOO IIITTT!" she screamed.

Jasper tore himself out of her grasp, staggering away and turning his back on her. He shoved his fist in his mouth as his head bowed in while Bella continued to wail and writhe on the floor.

"Jasper?" Jacob called in concern as he released Paul, clapping a firm, cautionary hand on his shoulder.

Jasper looked up slowly as his fist fell to his side. Jacob gasped at the torment in the other's face…and the _tears_. Two, rivulets of amber etched his cheeks. Vampires _could_ _cry_?

Jasper's eyes closed softly and several droplets surged over his lids. "She wants to die," he whispered hollowly.

"What?" Paul breathed in shock.

His ochre eyes opened and met Paul's gaze intensely. "She couldn't bear to live without you as one of our kind. After she was Turned, we were gonna kill Aro..." Jasper licked his lips as his gaze fell to the floor. "And then I promised her –when she wanted - I'd do her the same favor."

Paul pushed Jacob roughly away and fisted his hands in his hair as he paced a few steps. His despair finally overran his battered heart and he threw his head back and bellowed hopelessnss to the sky.

"Jasper should have forced the Change," the Were hissed. "It's taking too damn long," he repeated his mantra of the last hour.

Paul's attention instantly snapped to where the lanky man was standing tensely, his narrowed gaze pinned to Bella's moaning form.

"I think she's fighting it…no one could bear this, not for this long," the Were whispered. "She's going to surrender."

Jacob's gaze whipped back to where Bella's torment was now leaking out in eerie, keening whimpers. Her heart stuttered poignantly.

"Don't interfere," Jacob heard Jasper's stern hiss at his side.

Before he could even process what he meant, Jasper had flashed to squat behind Bella's trembling form. He roughly fisted his hand in her sweat-soaked hair and ripped her head up off the floor, dragging her mangled body along with it.

"_Look, Bella,"_ he seethed cruelly right beside her ear. "See that pitiful excuse for mate a' yours? That bastard _Paul_?"

Bella's eyes rolled in her head as her breath heaved through quivering nostrils. Paul's roar tore through the room and without even looking, Jacob's arm shot out to stay him. "Wait!" he rasped.

"_Paul_, Bella. See 'em?" Jasper continued, tersely shaking her head back and forth until her blue eyes rolled unsteadily into view. "I've waited long enough, darlin'. He ain't nothin' but a swaggerin' backwoods, redneck. He ain't good enough for a gal like yourself. Even _he_ knows it. Gonna put him out a' all of our misery, sweetheart."

Jasper continued in a monochrome hiss. "I'm gonna _kill_ 'em for you."

Bella's eyes rounded as she gulped in a raspy breath and Jasper threw her coldly to the floor as he stood, his eyes black and menacing. "He's just all bluster an' moxie without _the balls_ to bring to the big boy leagues," a smile hitched lips pulled back from fiendish teeth.

Paul violently shook his Alpha off and Jacob's eyes darted worriedly to where he crouched with a low snarl. Strangely though, Paul wasn't _vibrating _as they usually did when they were closed to losing themselves to the wolf.

He seemed oddly in control.

Even drowning in grief, that razor mind _knew_ the game Jasper was playing… and he was stepping up to bat.

"C'mon parasite,"he growled. "Show me what you got."

With a glance down at where Bella pushing herself up on twisted limbs, eyes wild and breath whooping, Jasper prowled a step toward her mate.

"Just a mangy junkyard cur," Jasper smirked. "I think it's about time someone put you down."

Paul rolled his eyes with a snort – that almost acknowledged the undercurrent of levity between them. Jasper's tacky euphemisms and slurs were bent on keeping Paul in control with their sheer audacity.

And then Paul pounced.

With a grating hiss Jasper met him mid-lunge, throwing his fist into Paul's face. His body careened across the wooden planks and crashed into the wall with a boom whose reverberations shattered the nearby window.

Jacob intercepted Embry's lunge to help with a warning growl and then panned the five worried faces who'd spilled out into the room, motioning them to back up.

"Strike one," Jasper chuckled darkly as he sprang across the room after the wolf, ripping Paul up off the ground.

Paul cracked his head into his opponent's and then brutally kneed him in the chest, sending him flying back into the center of the living room. Without hesitation, the wolf surged after him with a roar.

Even though Jacob knew this was a staged match only – and that neither of them were truly trying (especially Paul) – his own body began to tremor. His instinct railed in protest at not jumping to the defense of one of his own.

Jasper rolled like lightning across the floor, evading Paul's pounce, and just as quickly flipped back to pin him prone to the ground. Jasper bared his teeth threateningly with a bloodcurdling hiss that sent a shudder down every last lupine spine.

It was echoed by a scream that disintegrated into gravelly snarls of pure rage.

Jacob whipped around just fast enough to see a blur of white streak from of a pile of blankets, faster even than his own lupine eye could follow.

It slammed into Jasper where his teeth were bared inches from Paul's back with a force that buffeted him into a tumbling roll across the room.

Jasper skidded to a halt on his back with a white wolf crouched on his chest. Its muzzle was wrinkled in a snarl, baring gleaming lethal teeth inches from his neck.

No one breathed.

The beast's ears were flattened threateningly back as it shifted its weight with a cagey tension from one paw to another while a savage growl boiled the room's pin-drop silence.

Oddly though, the beast didn't go for the kill, but just stared at its prey as the muscles bunched up in its back as if begging for the slightest provocation. It finally hit Jacob just how much Jasper had risked in this play for Bella's life.

Bella should have gone for the kill.

But she hadn't. Yet.

Paul silently flipped over, sitting slowly back on his knees. "Bella," he whispered.

The animal's ears twitched from where they were plastered against its lowered head.

Paul licked his lips. "Babe, I really don't care if you kill him," he crooned velvety and low but with a little too much breathy relish to ignore. "Except he's got news we gotta hear."

Jasper's eyes cut over resentfully and Paul gave him a reveling smile.

The wolf growled in a rumble Jacob felt in his bones, its snout wrinkling rhythmically as if Jasper's scent burned its nose.

"Bella," Paul breathed soothingly again.

Shockingly, those ears popped up, angling backward and the animal slowly slunk down Jasper's body, its eyes piercing its prey and head dipped low and threatening.

"Now you know I was jus' playin, darlin'," Jasper breathed with an attempt at casual smile from where he stayed safely motionless on the ground.

The wolf backed blindly across the room until it was inches from her mate. With an explosive snarl, the beast turned in a lissome semicircle around Paul, snapping its jaws in vicious warning at each and every one of them.

"Everyone, back up…" Jacob murmured softly. "_Slowly_."

The tension over Jasper's imminent demise slipped cautiously lax as the Pack inched back to the edges of the room while from a defensive crouch it continued to snarl.

_She _continued to snarl_…_. This was _Bella_ now... his oldest friend, his sister, and – if he were honest – a woman that he loved like no other.

Those haunting aquamarine eyes locked cannily with Jacob's - in recognition or in innate acknowledgement of his dominance among her 'foes.' Jacob wanted to believe it was the former, but as her lips peeled back to the quick over warning fangs, he was clearly mistaken.

Paul was the only one she seemed to know. And Jasper. But why hadn't she killed him if she was a mindless beast like the Were claimed?

"Bella," Paul breathed again from where he knelt on the floor, his gaze washing in wonder over the animal before him.

The wolf's head snapped around and her ears flattened passively. With a hitching whine, she swayed on her haunches for a moment, and then, like a newborn colt, she crumpled to the ground, panting softly.

Paul reached a shaking hand out toward the creature. "You're _beautiful_," he gasped.

And indeed she was.

The Wolf in Jacob was utterly mesmerized by her raw power yet svelte elegance. No larger than a natural wolf, her limbs were long and body graceful with a fluid athleticism. Her coat was more like that of a coyote, silky and sleek. But it was utterly white like spun glass except for a dusting of silver over her tail, a soft blush at her ears, and delicate streaks of sterling that feathered her snout. Black punctuated her nose and lined those magnificent eyes.

Velvet ears perked up endearingly as Paul's fingers fearlessly reached toward a muzzle that was only seconds ago wrinkled at Jacob in rage.

Lifting her head heavily from the floor, she sniffed his hand and stumbled up to limbs that had become wobbly with the pain she still suffered.

Paul held completely still as she took a tentative step toward him, sniffling up his arm as her eyes stayed locked on her mate. With another step, she ghosted her snout over his face and his eyelids fluttered closed. Still another step and she pushed her muzzle into his neck, a low rumbling purr tiptoeing through the silent room.

A pink tongue came out to instinctively lave the fresh wound at his neck that still hadn't healed completely. She lapped it attentively for a moment as Paul's hand slipped across her pelt, his dark matte complexion a dramatic contrast to her gossamer white.

Pulling back, the wolf lapped his face with a sweet mewling sound like a cub and Paul chuckled, looking up and meeting Jacob's gaze with eyes that sparkled with awed stars.

He was smitten.

As he should be. There was a peace relaxing the lines around his eyes that Jacob had never seen before on that face – even with the looming suffering and uncertainty before them. Jacob knew all the strengths and weakness of his wolves, so of course he knew that Paul, as the single shifter who struggled daily with toeing the line between beast and man like the feral killing machine he was, had always felt like a monster among monsters.

And certainly never good enough for Bella.

Jacob didn't understand how, but he could see it: this was somehow healing few of those deep scars.

"I-I d-don't understand…" a voice stuttered an eerie echo.

The white Were jerked back with flattened ears at the sound as her lips lifted from her canines.

Jacob glanced at where the Were was watching the scene with gaping disbelief. He met Jacob's gaze with disturbed eyes. "She-… she didn't even bite him," he wheezed. "A _vampire_ is but six meters from her and she ignores him!"

His eyes darted to where Jasper sat utterly motionless – as only their kind could – and had inched up the wall so he could watch wolf and mate get acquainted.

"Jasper's her friend?" Jacob murmured to himself with a thoughtful cock to his head.

"That's ridiculous!" the Were choked, his agitation rising. "We _exist_ to kill! There should be nothing on her mind right now than killing us all!"

Jacob didn't have the patience for charity with this asshole. "Shut the fuck up, our I'll shove that candlestick down your throat, "Jacob hissed as their little werewolf crouched down low with a snapping snarl.

The Were's eyes darted back to the creature, his brow furrowed in distress. Swallowing thickly, he folded his hands before him and leaned against the table.

Paul let her settle for a moment. "Bella," he whispered again and she turned back around, casting another wary glance toward the Were. "Don't let that motherfucker stir you up, babe," he murmured, again reaching out an entranced hand.

With an abrupt change in posture, her tail went up and she took several shaky steps toward her mate. She ducked under his hand and tossed it with her muzzle, catching it with a pink tongue before continuing her snuffling assessment of every last millimeter of his body.

She stepped into his lap, zeroing in again on the wound at his neck with an attentive tongue – which had oddly made more progress toward healing than it had over the entire day.

Paul tipped his head as he ghosted his palms over the silky pelt. His eyes shone as they carefully catalogued every inch, like he was memorizing a new imprint all over again.

Which he was.

"She's shaking," he breathed and then looked up at Jacob with a overstated spike of wide-eyed worry.

"Price?" Jacob murmured quietly, turning his gaze to the Were.

"She needs to feed," he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his face. "The Change takes its toll on both human and animal."

"Oh –ho! The crotch!" Quil guffawed. "Pay up, Emb…"

Jacob snapped back to where Paul gently push the wolf's muzzle out of his lap. "Not in public, babe," he chuckled.

But at the rowdy Pack commotion of all four others condemning Quil, the wolf spun around with an agitated snarl.

"Damn it, Quil!" Jacob spat shoved a flattened palm toward his Pack. "Shh!"

The wolf was panning the group with increasing anxiety, her gaze whipping from one of them to another, seemingly overwhelmed by pure numbers. She crouched low crouch on trembling haunches as she continued to growl.

"C'mon little girl," Paul murmured soothingly as he stood and unbuttoned his jeans. "Let's get you somethin' to eat. 'Leave these assholes to their fuckin' shenanigans," he added with a snort.

The wolf seemed increasingly antsy as she continued to growl, pacing back and forth and not so easily distracted this time. But suddenly she glanced back at her mate and froze, lifting a confused muzzle to sniffle the air.

With a slow smile, Paul fell forward and seamlessly into the shape of his huge, grey Wolf.

Bella's tail whipped between her legs as she skittered back low to the ground, ears flattened and eyes wide.

Jacob chuckled; it was a priceless reaction, actually.

He pulled Leah to his side and he kissed her temple continuing to chuckle - as Bella was far too entranced with recent developments to notice anything other than the huge wolf before her.

"You're wishing you could tape this shit, huh?" Leah sniffed cannily with a tickle to his ribs before she wrapped her arm around him. They all had a strict ban on mixing Wolves with any kind of media – for obvious reasons: it was the last thing any of them wanted to find on YouTube.

Jacob glanced down at her with an enigmatic raise to his brow which made her roll her eyes. But for the record she was right, as she usually was.

Paul collapsed to the floor and propped his muzzle on his paws with his best puppy dog look and Bella slowly peeled herself off the floor. He whined softly and Bella crept hesitantly toward him, looking like she expected to be swallowed whole at any second.

Her entire body shaking like a leaf and eyes diffidently averted, she approached the hulking Wolf with a passive lupine hunch that tucked her tail. Her muzzle stretched out to sniff his snout.

And then again.

Paul purred reassuringly as his yellow eyes washed over her covetously. Her tongue darted out over his muzzle and it seemed to break some kind of spell – she took two more steps toward him as her tail went up, wagging slowly. She lapped over his muzzle, his brow, his ears… all while he patiently submitted. Finally he lifted his head and returned her wolfy kisses muzzle to snout in the very primal greeting of mates.

"Aww," Leah laughed, resting her head on Jacob's shoulder.

Jacob squeezed her tighter as Paul slowly rose on his haunches.

Bella paused, cowing and baring her neck in submission to mate that made the grey wolf rumble in pleasure. He reached down and lapped over her thick ruff. Rubbing jaws intimately for a moment, Paul then looked up and caught Jacob's gaze with intense yellow eyes that screamed the claim loud and clear to his Alpha and the only other male who was as dominant in the Pack:

MINE.

Bella glanced back at Jacob in confusion as she leaned her slim body into his muscled bulk – he was over twice her size. With a soft yip to his Alpha -either calling a greeting or daring him to object, Jacob couldn't tell - he padded across the room toward the door and she followed him like a snow shadow.

Paul bared his teeth over his mate's shoulder at the Were in passing and then leaped down porch steps, followed closely by his nimble little Were. They loped across the lawn and out over the moor, silent and graceful, white and grey, iced by the waxing moon.

It felt like the entire room expelled a collective sigh.

"That was beautiful," Kai gushed.

Jacob glanced over with an agreeing grin at where the large man was dabbing daintily at the corner of his eyes while his mate patted his shoulder.

"So do we getta run with 'em?" Embry turned rubbing anticipant palms over his jeans.

Jacob nodded, disengaging himself from Leah and turning to the others. "I want you to keep an eye on 'em but keep your distance until Paul gives you the okay. Remember he's going to be even more edgy than usual with an unmarked mate."

His wolves nodded soberly - they'd all smelled the pungent challenge in that exchange.

"But first you asses have to clean up that kitchen," Jacob tried to lighten things up. "'Don't want you leaving it all for Kai."

"You're not coming?" Leah asked with a furrow to her brow.

"Not this time Chica," he tried on a casual smile as he tucked her hair behind an ear. "Jaz an' I gotta talk."

He looked up at where Jasper had stood and was now leaning against the hearth, with respectful hand folded before him. He could undoubtedly tell that Jacob was just as edgy.

And Jacob didn't understand what the fuck was going on. Throughout this who ordeal he'd been uncharacteristically unbalanced, but as soon as the excoriating trauma of her suffering had waned and Bella had shifted, he'd felt this unfamiliar and undeniable _pull_ toward his best friend.

Leah's gaze narrowed thoughtfully for a moment and then she nodded.

She leaned up and gave him an exonerating kiss on his cheek that told him she felt how off he was too.

"Okay, mongrels. Let's get on it," she turned back to the bunch. "That bitch is fast, so we gotta get out there before they're too far to catch."

At an uncomfortable clearing of a throat, Jacob's gaze jerked up to the forgotten Were standing – painfully awkward – in the corner. "I need to get going," the Were announced brusquely from as he shuffled toward the door. He paused looking around with disturbed eyes, lamely patting his pockets like he'd forgotten something. "But I'll be back before sunrise," he mumbled.

Jacob gave him a curt nod. He understood what painful questions were probably eating at the Were, but he just couldn't find it in his heart for a shred of compassion.

Not after what he'd done to her.

Licking his lips, the Were visibly steeled himself and met Jacob's callous gaze. "Just keep her close - you can't track her," he flicked his hair off his collar in that prissy way of his. "And you wouldn't want such a sweet little thing to have a run-in with the wrong sort, eh?" the cocky tilt to his head covered an undercurrent of menace.

Jacob's hackles rose along with a snarl, even though he was fairly certain he was just searching for his asshole card which he'd lost through the suffering and revelations lurking in the dusk.

"Get out, motherfucker," he growled lunging forward and yanking the Were toward the door. "The only reason you're still alive is because I love her, so I always fuck up tryin' to give her what she wants." He jerked open the door, throwing the lanky - but unnaturally dense - man through it. "And for some God forsaken reason she thinks you deserve a second chance."

The Were turned with bared teeth and a petulant hiss. "And you call _me_ insane?"

"Do you _**WANT** to die?"_ Harsh spittle sprayed through Jacob's bared teeth at the insult to Bella. "Well _she_ wants you alive right now. Needs it. But just keep pushin' me and I'll dig out those eyes out like melon balls with Paul's fucking spoon," he hissed murderously.

"How nasty," the Were flared his nostrils with a smug smirk. He'd succeeded at getting the better of Jacob and it obviously reassured his sick sorry ass.

Jacob slammed the door in his face.

Shoving his hands through his hair, he paced into the room with an aggravated growl.

Jasper was sitting back on the couch, ankles crossed indolently and an arm thrown over the back like he was watch a sitcom rerun. " 'Got your goat, did he?" he chuckled through a saucy smile.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Don't you start, asshole," he snarled detouring to snatch a chair from the dining area and dragging it toward the couch. He gruffly slammed it to the floor and straddled it, propping his forearms over the back. "Okay, spill."

Jasper cocked his head and resituated himself. "Well, 'seems this Topher character holds a real bit of clout. They sent me back a personal message – hacked my IP good, don't know how managed that one, I thought the back door was button-..."

At Jacob's impatient growl, Jasper stopped himself with a rueful smile. "They said they'd meet us evenin' after next in Paris."

Jacob opened his mouth in protest but Jasper raised his brow shrewdly. "I replied of course that we needed to meet 'em durin' the _daylight_ hours for our little Were so we got us a rendez vous scheduled for Saturday afternoon."

"Paris?"

Jasper nodded.

"We're running out of time," Jacob expelled a breath and tapped his fingers on his forearm restlessly. "That doesn't give us a lotta time after to figure out this other shit," he grumbled. "Less than a week."

Jasper sighed, sitting up a bit more as he absently picked a piece of lint off his slacks. "Yeah. I still ain't heard from Rose or Emmett," he mused under his breath. "But I figure we can maybe leverage a lil' somethin' in this tryst with the Fae. I mean, what we know about their 'dirty little secret'…" he sneered. "Well, that's gotta be good for somethin'."

"Like a death sentence," Jacob grumbled.

"Naw," Jasper looked up from under his lashes. "The Fae ain't supposed to interfere. And I reckon killin' us would be kind of, y'know… _interferin'_," his lips twisted in a lopsided smile.

Jacob sniffed absently and pursed thoughtful lips. He didn't like running blind like this. He knew his wolves and he knew leeches, but there were just too many unknown moving parts in this fight.

And the stakes were unimaginable.

He always tried to honest – as much as he could – and that meant with himself too. It wasn't just Bella's life they wagering – or Paul's and Caleb's - it was his entire Pack's. Actually, more than likely, the survival of his people too. He'd talked to his father, Leah and his Pack about it all. _Honestly_.

And it wasn't even a question.

This is what they did: they protected their own. They were one Pack, one Tribe. No one was left behind.

"Kay, done!" Embry announced, his enthusiasm for the run loud and clear in maniacal eyes.

Jacob sometimes wished he had that simplistic freedom from duty.

"Fuck, Emb," Jacob snorted. "You guys gotta tone it down. You're gonna make her skittish."

"You mean more skittish," Brady smiled as he leaned over to press his lips to Kai's temple.

"You girls have fun," Kai smiled to the room. "Yours truly has to get some much needed beauty sleep," he quipped taking the first stair.

"Tell me about it," Quil snickered.

With no preamble, a lightning fist slammed into his stomach and Quil gasped, doubling over as Brady towered over him with a saccharine smile.

"Sorry," Quil gasped looking up mischievously into Brady's glittering eyes.

"He's just jealous," Kai dismissed with a coquettish wrinkle to his nose. "Because no amount of sleep's helping _that_ ole face. 'Night all!"

" 'Night," Leah called, echoed by the rest of the room.

"Kay mongrels, keep it chill," Jacob called over his shoulder as they filed through the room. He stretched out his arm, opening and closing his fist in petition and Leah acquiesced, detouring to be wrapped in a brief hug. "I'll keep 'em outta trouble," she murmured and kissed him on the top of the head.

"You always do, baby," Jacob smiled slapping that damn fine ass of hers.

Leah snorted and, with a sarcastic smirk at Jasper, trotted after her Pack.

Jacob watched each Phase smoothly – Leah last as usual for decorum's sake – and rush across the lawn. A chorus of howls rising over the percolating bullfrog song. Miles away two low long calls intertwined in answer.

Jacob smiled to himself as he turned back to Jasper.

Jasper's furtive gaze washed over him for a moment and a wry smile hitched his lips. "You're still in love with her, aren't ya?"

Jacob's brow crashed as he sat up in the chair with a scowl. "What the fuck are you saying?"

Jasper merely tapped his finger to his temple slyly and then let his hand fall back to the couch. "You know what I'm sayin', cause I know what you're _feelin'_," he murmured slick and cryptic.

Jacob burst up to his feet throwing the chair to the ground. "I warned you…" he growled.

Jasper held up placating hands, his body language utterly unconcerned. "Don't get your dander up, now," he crooned. "It's a tricky thing, a heart…. chasin' after what it can't have and not relishin' what it's got. I know it first-hand."

"I'm _so_ not gonna talk about this fucker," Jacob glared at him, his hands curling into fists.

Jasper nodded with a neutral purse to his lips. "Jus' listen a spell, then. You know my days are numbered one ole way or another," his lips peeled rambunctiously back from gleaming teeth.

Jacob expelled an annoyed breath and shoved his hand through his hair as he paced toward the window overlooking the dark hills. The crickets chirped on unawares, pulling strident counter rhythm to the frogs in the pond.

"I seen the way you and your girl got it goin'… all cozy an' comfortable… a lovesome thing really," Jasper began quietly. "But you're both capable of so much more – feels like a block or somethin'. Or maybe you haven't found your heart," he paused for a moment and Jasper heard him shift on the couch. "But Bella ain't it…"

**"I know that!" **Jacob whipped around ferociously.

"Do you?" Jasper raised his brows. "Or do y'still think in that lil' heart a' yours that she's just the one that got away."

Jacob stared at him for a moment, blinking like a fool. He didn't have those feelings for Bella – she was his _sister_.

But what was this pull he was feeling? It almost felt like a mandate or bond... or an imprint…

And it was just too complicated to figure out right now.

"It'll be easier once the imprint get's sealed," he grumbled turning back to the window.

"Nice you have that little caveat, but some of us gotta do the work," Jasper murmured and then drew in a deep breath. "I was in love with her too, y'know… still am really. But she taught me there's a whole lotta different kinds a' love out there," Jasper chuckled softly. "You should figure out what kind you got for your girl, not pining after Bella," he breathed and Jacob turned around with a furrow to his brow.

Jacob didn't understand what happening - and he was so burned out right now it wasn't a surprise. But one thing was for sure: there'd be a snow day in hell before he discussed any of this shit with a _fucking vampire._

"Bella and me got us some real friendship and I ain't going to ruin that for nothin' – though I almost did." He paused sitting up with a precise, measured tension to his movements. "You need to treasure what you have."

His gaze bored intensely into Jacob's "And that's all I wanted say," he enunciated each word quietly.

Jacob just stared blankly as his mind roiled trying to get his bearings in this crazy-surreal conversation. He couldn't believe a fucking leech was admitting this to his mortal enemy either. Could it be the parasite actually _cared_ about her?

About _them?_

"Close your mouth boy, 'less you wanna catch you some flies," Jasper grinned evilly as he sat up on the couch, pulling his feet under him.

Jacob's mouth closed with a pop.

"So, you know just about all I know about this meetin'…" his tone switched to bland, business as he stood and cracked his neck. "I'll go on back and make us some plane reservations for Saturday mornin' – it just takes a few hours from London. All your boys comin'?"

Jacob blinked and shook his head, smearing his hand down his face. "Yeah. Not to the meeting though. Can you get us a place?"

"Shore thing," Jasper nodded heading for the door.

Jacob trailed after him still feeling understandably discombobulated. He paused in the doorway leaning his forearm against the frame. "I really should have kicked your fucking sparkle- ass for all that bullshit, Jaz," he grumbled petulantly.

Jasper turned, shifting his weight as his sly gaze met Jacob's. "Aw now, do y'need a hug pup?" he leered with mischievous menace.

Jacob snarled obscenities as he slammed the door in his face.

Sniffing in disbelief, Jacob surveyed the empty room as his head shook slowly at nothing and everything at the same time. With a humorless laugh, he crossed to the remaining easy chair and dragged it out to the porch. After he'd finally stepped up to his birthright, he'd born backbreaking burden with congenital dominion, practiced skill and natural good nature.

But right now – for the first time he could remember other than his temporary tank when he'd lost Leah – he felt like it was frighteningly close to breaking his back.

Collapsing in the chair with a heavy sigh, he propped his feet up on the railing and stared pensively out over the dark countryside, while his heart ached and insides churned. He sat motionless through the wee hours of the night, through the crickets, through bullfrogs, through Kai's soft snoring, just…thinking.

About all the things that lurked in the dusk of mind, heart and soul.

He may have fallen asleep – or may have not– but all too soon a chorus of howls announced the dark shapes slipping over the hills in the distance. Jacob rubbed his face blearily and pulled his feet off the railing, sitting up.

A white blur shot into the yard like a ghost, a huge gray Wolf hot on her heels. The Bella-wolf spun around going down on her forepaws and wiggling her butt in the air playfully. Her mate trotted up with an amused huff and shook out his pelt. With a yip, she pounced, mewling and yowling like cub as she darted in to nip at an ear and then hopped in a lightning feint from his teasing snap.

Jacob chuckled as the two played, joined quickly by the rest of the Pack. Bella went after Embry next, biting his ankles and then leaping effortlessly over his tall back as he turned defensively.

Paul growled low butting between them with a searing stare for his Pack mate. Bella, gleefully unperturbed, pounced after Brady next and they tussled and rolled, in the grass with puppy-like growls while Paul looked silently on.

Brady was safe for his testosterone-fueled jealously.

Jacob realized he was protecting her. She had marked him, but she neither carried his mark nor scent, a hardly acceptable situation for any male Wolf – especially one as dominant as Paul. So he fiercely and attentively protected his technically unmated bitch – as he had throughout the day even in human form.

Jacob looked up as Leah jogged toward him, having slipped into her sundress on the edges of the lawn. She vaulted easily over the railing, bumping his shoulder amiably before settling on the armrest of the chair. She was flushed with exertion, red-cheeked and smiling.

Jacob's lips curved of their own accord as he brushed her sweaty hair back from a glowing cheek and wrapped his arm around her. "Did you have fun, chica?"

She nodded. "You really shoulda come. It was like having a _real_ puppy in the Pack," she panted happily. "It took her a while to warm up to us – especially with Paul acting like such an fuckface," she jerked her chin toward the yard where he had once again usurped Bella's attention by pinning her with a careful paw. He was chewing affectionately on her ear while she squirmed… like a cub.

"But I've never seen him so … _happy_," she finished in a quiet breath.

Jacob sniffed through a sad smile as he watched Paul lap repentantly over her face. The grey wolf let her up, only to be attacked by an impish growl and a gnawing sprightly pounce on the ruff of his neck.

He was glad they had both gotten – well, the whole Pack really - a moment of peace and reprieve before the next leg of this journey straight to hell.

"And we got to see their bond, Jake," Leah continued, low and serious.

He turned to her and she tapped her temple absently. "We could _see_ the imprint…it's like… _crazy_," she breathed. "It's like they're two parts of one thing – even Bella being all wolf right now. You can't really feel her in there much… just the wolf," she continued in an uncharacteristic babble. "I mean we could only ever see what Sammy let slip out of that fucking tight-ass – which you know isn't much."

Jacob chuckled and stroked a loving finger down her cheek.

"But now," she paused and looked into his eyes. "_Now_ I get it."

A sad smile curved his lips as he leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek.

Leah pulled back with wide, clear eyes. "No, it's _good_…It helps to understand," she assured him. "_You_ need to see it. You need to run with 'em," her eyes darted between his meaningfully.

At that moment there was a commotion on the stairs as Paul leaped up to the porch and then turned, urging his mate to follow with an encouraging whine.

With a yip, she took them all in one agile leap and then turned to Jacob and Leah sitting on the chair. With a soft bark, she trotted over, pushing her face into Jacob's lap with an swipe of an indiscriminate tongue that caught them both.

Jacob laughed and scratched her ears while she panted happily, drooling long strings of exertion all over both him and Leah while she snuffled away. She really was a beautiful animal: ethereal, yet wild and organic. And so _soft_.

Lean tapped her snout friskily and then giggled and dodged the tongue that darted out to catch her finger.

A sober yowl, made her whip her head around to where her mate stood, staring Jacob down with warning yellow eyes. With another slobbery lap, she turned and trotted blithely after her mate into the house.

Jacob watched through the shattered window while Paul curled up by the smoldering fire and he shook slobber off his hands with a chuckle. Bella curled up beside the huge gray wolf and Paul began laving his tongue attentively over her. Grooming his mate.

"Are you doin' any better?" Leah's canny question made him snap back around from his musings.

Jacob stared at her shrewd eyes and his gaze fell to his lap.

"Hey, you know you can talk to me about anything, Jake," she murmured, tipping his face up with a gentle hand.

Jacob rolled his eyes at himself as he shook his head in disgust. Leah had always been his ballast and confidante, but right now…

"I dunno… I think I'm just…"

The problem was, he couldn't complete that sentence. Too much swirled in a mind that was running on overdrive: protection of his Pack and all the inherent pressure that went along with being Alpha, a crazy vampire and an enigmatic werewolf, an impending meeting with the infamous Fae, the reality of an imminent war with so much unknown, questions about his relationship, watching his sister and best friend suffering and battling for all she cared for… and the inopportune reawakening of an infatuation he'd left long ago in childhood... he'd thought.

_Jesus, he was a total mess._

"You don't have to have it all together _all the time_, you know, Jay," Leah murmured looking into his eyes with concern. "You do _everything_ with everything you got… including loving me. _Everything_ you got," she hissed with conviction. "That's all _anyone_ can ask, Jay… It's all we can ask."

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_Review if you like._


	19. Love Comes

_Hi folks. Sorry I haven't been online all that much. I really appreciate the feedback._

_Tried to take this down a different kinda road from the "typical"… we'll see how I do. Also a note that was made clearer by a scene that I cut: Paul never actually marked/bit Bella (that mating bite wasn't a big thing in the BLW universe)._

_'_

_As always, thanks for reading and hope you enjoy._

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><p><strong>Chapter 19 – Love Comes<strong>

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><p>'<p>

Paul stood by the window, staring out through the rippled antique glass over the lawn. The noon hour was overcast and moody… very much like himself.

A soft groan slipped from the bed behind him and Paul glanced over his shoulder at the woman, sprawled across the mattress, finally passed out from enduring fucking agony. He turned back to the window, pressing his lips into a straight line.

It wouldn't be long now.

The part of him that lamented the game that he was going to have to play sat like a cold, lead dread in the pit of his stomach. The _rest_ of his sick self bubbled with shameless….

Anticipation.

Bella's groans grew louder behind him and Paul clenched the muscles in his jaw, against turning around.

"P-Paul?" she moaned quietly.

"I'm here, babe," he murmured to the window.

He heard the sheets rustle and the bed shift as she turned on her side toward him. For several minutes, the sounds of her soft panting, punctuated with the aching gasps of the pain that was driving them both mad. Paul's eyes stayed carefully trained outside, unfocused as they were, as he struggled to draw air, slow and steady, through his nose.

"Paul?" she whispered, her voice trembling with confusion.

"Yep…" He brought a cagey finger up to trace across the sash. Just to keep himself grounded. Just to keep him from turning around, scooping her up in his arms and comforting that quaver in her voice.

"What's wrong?" she breathed over the dull squeak of the bed as she sat up.

Paul closed his eyes for a moment pressing his lips together and drawing in a cooling breath.

"Well…" he turned around.

Slowly.

"Last night you almost died," he hissed the acidic words over his tongue as his eyes lifted to his wife.

His resolve shimmered like a mirage. Bella's huge eyes were worried where she sat on the edge of the bed like a little waif, her body dwarfed by his tee shirt. The flush of suffering stained her cheeks and her shoulders were caved in under all the weight of her burdens.

But still she was so fucking beautiful.

"In fact," he snapped his mind back into the game – a game that necessary for both of their sanities' sake. "You asked Jasper to _kill_ you," he murmured, cocking his head with a dark and bitter smirk. "Remember that?"

Bella blinked rapidly as her hands wrapped around her middle. She didn't answer.

"And I can't do it anymore," Paul pushed the words over a raspy breath. "I can't watch you suffer like this, not when there's something I can do about it. Not when all you have to do is _fuck_ _me_."

Bella sucked in a sharp breath at his crassness. He was _never_ crass with her. Ever.

"I can't watch for three hours while your bones break – over and over… " he met her wide-eyed gaze. "While you scream bloody murder for hours when the pain's _finally_ gotten too ridiculous to hide it, like you're doing right now… " he took a step toward her. "I can't watch _my wife_ ask a leech to kill her because she can't stand the torture anymore."

Bella's eyes narrowed. "Then you can leave," she jutted out her chin with that signature rebellious pucker of her lips. "You can go home to Caleb. Where you're _supposed_ to be."

It was just as he'd expected.

Paul growled, slapping the wall hotly. "This is fucking bullshit!" he took a tense step toward her and then abruptly turned, pacing into the room. "You're just being _stubborn_!" his voice vaulted up to a yell along with his blood-pressure.

Bella coughed a laugh. "That's the pot calling the kettle a frying pan if I ever heard it," she snorted.

Paul spun on his heel as a smirk broke through the angst to tug at his lips. "You mean _'the pot calling the kettle black?'_" he sniffed a laugh.

"_You_ said it, not me…" she raised her brows shrewdly.

Paul narrowed his eyes in annoyance. She'd been messing with him, insinuating her sneaky self into his rising temper like she did oh, so well.

_Oh-ho-ho, little girl. Game on._

He gave her a slow saccharine smile.

"Maybe I _should_ just leave…" he raised his brows tauntingly. "I mean Jake's been creaming his jeans for another chance at you."

"_Oh my God_!" Bella screeched, vaulting to her feet in outrage. "Disgusting, Paul!"

Now he was getting somewhere.

"He'd be much better for you," he continued caustically. "He's a good kid, sweet, dorky… _happy_."

"**Paul**! !" Bella exclaimed with a distressed furrow to her brow.

"Then that'd leave Leah, though," he tapped his finger on his chin as he feigned giving it any sort of thought what so ever. "She's one Rez bitch I never got around to back in the day," he continued mercilessly as the color rose to Bella's cheeks.

She pressed her lips together severely as he took several slinking steps toward her, staring intensely into those stunning new eyes.

He enunciated each word like a punch. "With that ass, she's bound to be a good fuck."

With an indignant growl, and new lightning reflexes, she reared back and slapped him.

Or tried to. Paul fluidly caught her wrist.

He could feel it in her racing pulse, see it in her harsh rasping breath… scent the _lupine_ rage rising pungent and sweet from her skin: Bella was seething as she stared at him with eyes flashing like lightning in a clear summer sky.

Paul yanked her a step toward him as his gaze drifted indolently over that beautiful, passionate face. "Yeah, baby," he purred. "Show me what you got."

Her other hand darted out to try again to land a hit across his face, but he lithely dodged the blow with a quick, efficient twist.

"Missed," he whispered.

He backed up, cocking his head as her breath rolled through her flared nostrils. "C'mon. You can do better than _that_," he goaded in a velvet croon. "Leah'd have my ass in a sling by now."

Bella lunged with an incoherent shrill. She raked her hand across his chest, and Paul grabbed her wrist, moving with her movement and stepping to the side. With just enough force, he flipped her, Aikido style, and she careened over the floor into the far wall.

With a growl of fury, she flipped over and unfolded into an aggressive couch. Paul's wolf purred with appreciative pleasure. His mate was strong and agile.

Bella's eyes glittered with the wolvish rage that had leached over her human consciousness. She was running on instinct now.

Paul tauntingly motioned her forward. "C'mon. Show me this monster, babe. Show me what you're so afraid I can't handle."

Bella streaked across the room with a savage snarl, her fists catching air with Paul's fluent evasions. He grappled his arms around her and she twisted with a shriek, elbowing him and then turning with a deft backwards kick. Paul caught her leg and tossed her on the bed, pouncing after her.

But she slithered out from under him with her nimble athleticism, pushing herself with enough force that she jettisoned off the bed, twisting agilely to land like a cat on her knuckles and balls of her feet.

Panting, Bella looked up from under her lashes with a vicious look that darkened her eyes to azure. Her lips peeled back from warning hiss.

It was sexy as fuck.

Paul slipped off the other side of the bed, prowling around it with a slow smile as her feral eyes followed him closely.

"Whatchu gonna do, little girl?" he crooned under his breath.

Bursting forward, he faked left and feinted right, dodging her strike and follow up spinning kick. Spinning around, he lunged and snapped his arms around her surprised torso, lifting her feet off the ground as she kicked wildly. He crossed the room in two strides and, measuring his strength carefully, he threw her against the wall.

She spun around upon contact with a squeak that sounded far too close to fear for Paul's liking. He was in front of her faster than she could react, pinning her to the wall with his heaving chest. He snatched up each wrist as they raised to beat him back and pinned each slowly, carefully, to the wall while his assessing eyes washed over her face.

Bella bared her teeth with a rabid snarl.

"Shh, you're okay," he soothed in a whisper and blew away the curls that had fallen over her eyes.

For several moments she wordlessly glared at him as their breaths sprinted ahead in syncopated pants. Slowly her eyes lightened with the return of her humanity.

A very pissed humanity, that is.

A shining auburn curl stubbornly fell back over an eye and Paul scooted each wrist up the wall and grasped both in one hand over her head. He brought his fingers down to push the lock behind her ear.

"You always wanted to see this side of me, Bella," Paul murmured as his gaze drizzled down over her flushed cheeks with relish. Truth be known, he was so turned on it hurt. He'd always been terrified to show her the raw passion and aggressive need for her that boiled his veins.

But now she could understand. And take it.

He ghosted his large palm down over her pert nipples then down to her waist as he pressed a thigh between her legs and lifted her up the wall, rubbing his arousal into her hip as if it would alleviate the ache.

It did anything but.

A soft gasp slipped from those cherry lips as she rubbed against the pressure between her legs, and Paul's gaze snapped back up to yawning pupils.

She was feeling it too. He could smell it.

"This is what I do, babe…" he whispered with a deceptively conversational cadence. "I piss 'em off to throw 'em off balance..." his lips lifted on one side in triumph. "Kinda like you are now,"

Bella rolled exasperated eyes and bit down to still the quiver in that entrancing lower lip. It drew him in like a magnet.

"And then I take what I want," he breathed huskily and leaned forward to lick over that sweet mouth.

Bella snapped her head to the side defiantly. "So you're just gonna _take_ it?" she disparaged turning back with a raised brow and disparaging smirk. She knew him better than that.

Paul's lips hitched up on one side as he shook his head slowly. "Nope, I'm gonna _make _you give it," he crooned provocatively.

Bella glowered at him.

Paul chuckled and leaned his torso into hers, sliding his free hand up over her armpit, clinging close to that new dense bicep, over delicate elbow, tensed forearm to cover his hand and hers above her head.

Inches from her face, he catalogued the details of her sexy annoyance up close: eyes that warred with arousal and luminescent wolf, nostrils flared with the hitch of stubborn lips to one side, her honeyed breath puffing uneven over his face.

Paul smiled. "Gimmee babee," he stretched the petition in a dark croon and felt her body shiver under him.

Swallowing her ardor, Bella closed her eyes with a huff of frustration.

"But before you do," he began in a tempting whisper. "There are three things you need to know about me."

Bella's eyes popped open, endearing curiosity trumping all of the other emotions that swirled in those aquamarine depths.

"First," his leaned forward an inch and traced the tip of his nose languidly up the bridge of hers.

"I'll never hurt you," he pulled back and his gaze focused, boring into her eyes to punctuate his sincerity. "Which is a whole hell of a lot easier with this new, solid body of yours," his lips curved with pleasure while his wolf rumbled in agreement in his diaphragm.

"Second," he breathed, leaning back in and listening to the hitch of her breath. "I'll never make you do something you don't wanna do," he stopped a centimeter from those addictive lips.

And stayed there.

Bella paused for a moment, eyes crossed as they tried to glare at him before she relented with a gasp and closed the distance to press her lips to his.

Paul caressed her mouth for a moment, patient, luxurious, enjoying the burning resistance against control that was he was so deliciously close to losing. He _played_ this game for her sake… but he waged this war against himself.

_Oh God._

Paul broke the kiss.

_Slowly_.

The delectable cling of her moist lips made his eyes roll as he pulled back several inches, panting softly.

Bella cleared her throat. "I know all that," she complained hoarsely, scrabbling to reign herself in with her signature impatience.

"Ah!" Paul's brow shot up in reprimand. "It's the _third_, babe," he chided, throwing in that roguish smile she loved so much as penance. "_That's_ what you gotta hear."

"Shoulda made it first then," Bella snorted, unappeased.

Paul chuckled and then intensified in an instant, looking deep into her eyes. _This_ is what she needed to hear. Oddly it was Jake who had given him the insight into the root of Bella's torment. He'd talked about how all new Wolves were frightened most, not by four feet or fur, but by their sheer unnatural _power_ and it was the Alpha's job to be stronger… for _them_.

It was then Paul had understood: Bella needed to feel _contained_.

"Third babe," he murmured, emphatic and slow. "Anything you do to me… bite, scratch, fuck my brains out…" He punctuated each word with a searing heat stoked in the kiln of his innate dominance.

"I.

_Let_.

You.

Do."

His gaze darted between hers for a moment, searching for understanding. He could see the struggle and uncertainty in her eyes. It had scared the shit out of her to suddenly have the power to wound _him_. And she couldn't bear it.

Paul knew the feeling.

He resituated them against the wall and tipped his neck toward her proudly showcasing the healing imprint of her teeth scarring his neck. "See that?"

Bella's eyes snapped down to the wound with a mix of horror and _something else_ battling in their depths.

"I _let_ you." he patted her wrists against the wall over her head poignantly. "I can _handle_ _you_," he hissed fiercely turning back to pin her with his convicted gaze. "Anything you wanna throw at me. I've got you, babe. I've got you tight. You're not a monster, you're a _wolf…" _he paused, licking his lips as his eyes darted between hers, begging her to understand_. "_And I was _made_ to handle this shit."

Bella blinked and then swallowed thickly with an expression that told him Jake had been spot on. It made total sense – Paul had just been too mired in his own private hell to understand.

But he _did_ understand. He _was_ made for this. He remembered the long dark months before he'd imprinted when he hated the Wolf and everything that came with it more than life itself.

Now – suddenly - it felt so right.

"Look at this," he commanded tipping his neck again and watching her reaction carefully. "It turns you on, don't it, little girl?" It was more a statement than a question.

Bella's eyes stayed glued to his neck and her eyes widened with inner turmoil.

"It turns _me_ on," he rasped, pressing his rock hard erection into her hip to prove the point. "It's _supposed_ to, Bella." He turned and looked her square in the eye. "It's how a wolf marks its mate and it's the only thing that's kept me sane with you being around other males and not carrying my mark!" He couldn't help the growl that leaked out with pure lupine outrage.

Bella's eyes snapped back to his.

"You don't know _how fucking close_ I've come to losing it," he continued, his voice breaking. "When you forget who you are, when you're still human… your wolf wants me bad. _You_ imprinted too, and she has the same driving need to seal the bond that I do, and it's taken _everything I got_ not to give her what she wants without your permission!" he declared passionately.

Bella blushed like a plum and her gaze dropped. "Y-you never bit me," she whispered.

Paul released her hands, letting her slide down the wall back to her feet. He took a step back and brought both palms to cup her jaw, tipping up her gaze which had ripened with tears of uncomfortable confusion.

"I always wanted to," he murmured, running his thumb over her chin as he gazed into her eyes. "Why do you think I had to suck a _perma-hickey_ into the side of that neck? It's a latent instinct that most of 'em can ignore," he paused dipping down to catch Bella's wandering gaze as she processed. "And I'm more Wolf than most," he breathed.

Those huge, haunting eyes blinked once. Twice. A tear rose to tremble on her lower lashes.

"You always said you wanted to be able to understand me… that you wanted to be there…. _to get it_," he stared earnestly, beseechingly into her confusion. He didn't understand it, but nothing had ever been as important as this.

"Now you can, babe. Don't run away."

Paul held her gaze wordlessly for several breaths while a million thoughts and feelings tumbled in her eyes.

And in his heart.

"_Please_," he whispered, closing his eyes to cage the tempest inside him. "Don't leave me now."

"_Oh, Paul,"_ she drew his name out soft and slow. The touch of small hands on his cheeks made his eyes snap open to find that tenuous tear giving up the fight. She blinked it down her cheek, several others following in a slow lament. "I'm sorry."

Paul shook his head. "It's scary shit," he whispered "You _know_ I get that,".

"_**I love you so much,"**_ she hissed fiercely with such soulful sincerity that it made his heart flip in his chest.

She smiled at whatever expression flashed over his face and with a soggy sniffle, she leaned in, going up on tiptoes to press her lips to his. "I _do_ get it," she murmured into the kiss.

Ahh… fragrant silk against his mouth.

Her lips were so loving, so redemptive… so _giving_. The delicate, attentive brush of her lips, was like a blessed pardon for a million sins he'd never even known were weighing him down. She'd always balanced the wolf but now she was truly balancing the man. They weren't alone anymore.

His soul swelled, overflowing in a low groan of rapture.

Bella echoed him with a soft hum and her hands slipped around his neck. Their mouths entwined in a lazy duel with the luxuriousness of longtime mates as her fingers idly combed through in the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Paul's hands ghosted down her neck, back over her shoulder blades, counting her vertebrae with cherishing fingers before settling over the swell of her hips.

Her hands trailed back around to his jaw, riding the indolent movement of his slow dragging pulls for a moment before clasping fervently and prying her mouth from his lips with a gasp.

Paul froze, panting against her, clasping the alter of her feminine hips, praying she wouldn't pull away.

Bella's eyelashes fluttered over his cheekbone as her mouth ghosted sensuously over his upper lip. She ran her nose up the side of his and then dragged it over the bridge and back down the other side with a sumptuous sweetness.

Paul's breath snagged in his chest as his eyes closed with a shaking sigh.

"Aren't you kinda…" Bella breathed, he could hear a smile in that alluring croon. "Um,… _uncomfortable_?" She pulled back with a mischievousness sparkle in those heavy-lidded eyes.

A slow smile bloomed on Paul's lips. It was a running joke between them: the way he would oh, so willingly contort his six foot five body into all sorts of strange angles to accommodate his petite wife. Paul straightened from his twisted stoop slowly, slipping his hands under her pert bottom and pulling her indolently up his body, relishing the way her curves felt dragging over every last inch of him.

Bella wrapped her arms tighter around his neck as her heels locked around his waist. "Better?" she asked.

"Much," Paul murmured leaning hungrily in to capture those tempting lips. Her mouth bloomed dewy and sweet under his demand and a fire ignited in his gut. With a guttural groan he fell into the wall, crushing himself into her delicious welcoming body.

And. He. Kissed. Her. Senseless.

He feasted on her mouth, frantically trying to fill a week of despair, five years of self-loathing, a lifetime of emptiness with the succor of lips. She ravenously met his hunger head-on and raised it, and the wolf slipped easily off his leash and devoured her whole.

Finally Bella gasped in a neglected breath from his ravaging mouth and Paul tore his lips from hers to place urgent nips over her jaw. His hands kneaded her ass, spreading her cheeks and pushing himself brazenly into her crotch while she moaned and writhed her pleasure.

"Shit," he gasped between frantic kisses over her face. "I .. _love_.. this.. new…body."

"It's different?" she mumbled as she took advantage of his position to snag his ear between her teeth.

Paul's knees buckled. "Mm hmm," he growled.

Bella released his ear. "Really?" she asked, her insecurity tickling his ear all the same and sending shivers down his spine.

He forced himself to surface from where he'd been surveying every follicle of her hairline with kisses as he drowned in her delectable scent scent. "Yep," he whispered. "Heavy… dense… strong."

Bella's eyes blinked worriedly.

Paul silenced her question with a smothering kiss. _"Like I'm not gonna break it,"_ he mutter-growled into her mouth as he shoved his cock against her grinding pelvis with a resounding thud against the wall. He was pretty sure they'd dented the thick plaster.

And she didn't even notice.

Bella came up for air with a gasp and Paul took the opportunity to pounce upon the hollow of her throat.

"…yone?"

Bella's mumbled question finally worked itself into his muddled brain as his lips dragged across her collar bone. All the blood in his body had gone south for the Fourth of July holiday while fireworks exploded in his head.

"Huh?" he gasped, following the pulse jumping up her neck at his Wolf's demand.

"Where is everyo-… unh!" Bella sucked in a sharp breath has his teeth massaged the sensitive tendon.

"Gone," Paul answered tersely as his hips began pumping into her hungrily.

_Fuck!_

He needed to rein himself in if he was going to cross the finish line. He felt like some kinda green zit-faced teen dangerously close to blowing it. (Which, for the record, he'd never been.)

With an irritable growl, he tipped his head back gulping in air by the lungful.

Bella seemed oblivious and pounced elatedly on his neck with hot, sensuous kisses as she continued to grind her crotch shamelessly into his painful erection, her fingernails digging eagerly into his shoulders.

"W-wait," he choked as he stumbled back from the wall, his arms gripping her tighter in greedy rebellion.

"No," Bella grunted against his neck. "_Now_," she commanded.

Reeling from sensory overload, Paul stumbled back. His arm shot out and tugged the mattress off that weak-assed bed and threw it to the floor. His lips again captured in Bella's fervid kisses, he collapsed backwards onto it, cracking his head against the floorboards as he landed awry.

"Shit!" he laughed at himself.

Bella picked her head up with a giggle as Paul scooched more onto the pitifully inadequate space. Their mattress back home was a California King. On the floor, of course.

Thankfully it broke the mood just enough to let himself scrape together any lingering shreds of control, as Bella became distracted by the new position.

She delightedly fell on one of his nipples while his hands deftly ruined yet another one of his shirts as they tore it off that creamy complexion. He tugged the material from between them and they gasped in unison at the exquisiteness of skin upon skin.

Bella hummed in pleasure as she luxuriated, moving slowly to and fro, and Paul watched his hands as they adoringly caressed, teak upon peaches, over her bare shoulders and down the white chocolate curve of her back.

Bella stilled under the tenderness of his touch, settling her cheek over his pec like a contented kitten. Paul smiled to himself as he ghosted lightly up over the sides of her ribs, feeling the chill bumps race along ahead of his fingers like ripples in a pond.

His fisted a hand deep in her thick curls at the back of her head and lifted her head from his chest, enjoying the way her eyes rolled in her head and the soft gasp of desire that slipped from her lips like honey.

"I like your hair like this," Paul murmured without thinking.

Bella's eyes snapped forward and her lips curved tentatively. "You do?"

"Mm, hmm," Paul hummed, carefully dragging her up his body and watching her nostrils quiver with the sensual tingle. "It's sexy. It shows off that bone I love at the back of your neck," his hand ghosted meaningfully over the vertebrae, then traced over the ridge of a shoulder blade.

Bella's face lit up in a glorious smile and Paul's heart skipped a beat. She was just so fucking beautiful.

"And it makes you look so young and innocent," he pursed his lips teasingly. "Like a little girl." It was the perfect stage for her organic features, highlighting her natural artlessness in a very tantalizing way, he had to admit.

Bella sniffed a laugh and her eyes melted to sultry. "Oh, I'm not a little girl," she smiled.

"Thank God," Paul chuckled as a finger slipped around to trace that delicious lower lip.

"And I'm not innocent either," she caught his finger in her mouth and suckled suggestively.

"Mmph," Paul's cocky reply was snagged in viscous craving as she slowly inched his finger past cherry pie lips and swirled her velvet tongue over the tip in her mouth.

With a smirk of triumph, Bella popped his finger out of her mouth and slithered up chest several inches. Her lips fell on his with instant fire and Paul's hips jerked up in reply. With soft grunts of want, she kissed him breathless with a novel unfettered hunger that sated something deep in the core of who he was.

The scent of her arousal and her raw, feral need was driving him insane. His own lust rose like an indivertible tide, razing anything and everything in its wake.

_Pants. Off. Now._

Paul's hands fumbled uncharacteristically with her shorts in his fervor. He was burning - like he'd been doused in viscous Napalm that was incinerating him alive. And if he had to pick a way to go, this would definitely be it.

Bella broke the kiss with a soft chuckle at his struggles as he tore through the shorts with a petulant growl. She pushed up off of him, but, seemingly similarly unable to bear the painful separation from his skin, continued to trail kisses over his jaw while he ripped and kicked his own jeans off impatiently. She settled back down over him with low hum of ecstasy as her tongue laved over and over her mark on his neck.

He came ridiculously close to blowing it (literally) at the feel of her soft, hot skin on his aching cock, and frantically stilled her succulent undulations.

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth as she continued to purr and lap over his neck, completely unconcerned by his frantic grip on her body.

"You wanna be on top?" he ground out through gritted teeth, and Bella's eyes popped open as she lifted her head in surprise. He'd only asked for propriety's sake… he knew what she liked (except on lazy Sunday mornings) and, not so coincidentally, it was what he liked too.

His Wolf growled in glee, as he flipped them seamlessly.

As Paul let his weight slowly push her into the mattress, Bella moaned deep in her throat. Eyes rolling with passion, she instinctually stilled under him, tipping her head to the side with a soft whine in primal submission.

Paul purred – a low, guttural sound of pure lust – as his lips dropped kiss after kiss over her face. Bella's legs opened of their own accord, and she lifted her feet up to rest on his back. His body quivered in anticipation while her moaning petition twisted and hollowed the room.

Panting like a racehorse he trailed his lips down over her collar bone – conspicuously avoiding her neck - bending to lap over a delectable breast, rolling a nipple between his lips, biting it carefully with his teeth as her groaning demand escalated, finally flaying the cloudy afternoon in a desperate shriek.

Paul chuckled wickedly.

He was teasing her. Teasing himself. Taking these last few moments to enjoy this erotic cremation before he gave them both what their bodies and bond so craved.

But he was only a preternatural Wolf after all. And he couldn't wait any longer.

With a rumbling growl, his lips locked over her racing pulse. And he suckled, his teeth dancing over her flesh in barely tempered yearning.

_Not yet._

"P-please," she begged achingly over quivering lips as her legs spread wantonly.

_Not yet._ If he bit – marked her like he'd craved to do for so long – he'd lose himself too soon.

Drawing in a slow, rasping breath he pushed off of her with every last ounce of strength he had. Bella whimpered, her eyes popping open, beseeching and wild.

"Shh, babe," he soothed as her nails raked over his shoulders, begging him closer as he spread his own knees on the bed and sat up more.

With a mewling moan, she tugged herself up to place a desperate and pleading kiss on his jaw. Paul moved his hands down to her slight hipbones and held tight. "Lay back, baby," he commanded in a velvet whisper that melted her body like butter. She slithered back down to the mattress and her hands snapped to his forearms. On his knees, legs splayed, he centered his body.

"Paul!" her plea was pushed through sticky, heavy want.

"Here we go, babe," he reassured those wide, frantic eyes in a panting murmur. Then, taking a steeling breath, he pushed forward, entering her hot satin wetness.

Every last cell in his body burst into flame.

Gritting his teeth and throwing his head back he pushed and pulled, slow and patient, while Bella's nails dug into his arms and she moaned long and low and delirious.

With a sharp intake of breath he cracked his eyes and tipped his head down. He loved to watch her like this: luxuriating in the sensation of him filling her before the rushing rapids of need compelled them both toward satiation's shores. Her eyes were softly closed, her lashes fluttering against her cheek, lips parted and quivering and her nostrils splayed as widely as her legs.

_Fucking delicious_.

His worshipful gaze washed over pert nipples… the chill bumps raised over every inch of skin…her pelvis tilted up in aching petition for more… his huge hand clasping her hips as tight as he wanted… his skin dark against her light and his tattooed wedding band proudly proclaiming his soul's desire.

Bella.

With a moan, he fell forward over her, catching himself on tense hands as his hips changed their angle and rhythm. Bella purred her approval as her nails raked over the musculature in his arms, slicked with the sweat of restraint.

Her fingers ghosted with contrasting gentleness over his shoulders and her eyes popped open, immediately finding his. A small, sexy smile quirked her lips as her gaze ran over his face with transparent affection.

"Mine," she mouthed silently.

Paul nodded mutely, entranced.

Bella arched under him and her legs wrapped around his hips urging him on. With an ardent moan, he gave in to the driving need of his body, pressing her down into the bed as his hips thrust into her mercilessly. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tipped her head back, a low cry of rapture beginning somewhere deep in her being. She craned her head to the side, exposing her neck in an instinctual surrender. To her body's need, to her soul's craving, to her mate's desire.

_To him. _

With something akin to reverence, Paul curled his body so his lips could latch over her hammering pulse while his hips slammed into her relentlessly. Bella's high keening elation only pushed him faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

A growl began deep in his gut as his movements jerked and stuttered with his imminent demise. As in tune as always, Bella's body shuddered violently from the inside out and he followed her with a roar into her shoulder as he pounded his aftershocks brutally into her core.

And then he bit.

The feel of his teeth cleaving her flesh made his body seize like he'd grounded a lightning strike. Her blood willingly squirted into his mouth as wave after wave of his seed coursed into her hot clenching body.

_MINE._

It was a violently explosive edict that shook him to his very soul, leaving his teeth chattering in resonance.

His body went limp over hers as he laid his cheek on her shoulder, pushing into her neck and laving the wound with soft pooling whines and a healing tongue. Her blood was sweet and gratifying, soothing some deep ache inside him and grounding him with a sublime stillness he'd never experienced.

Bella's hands slowly unclenching from his shoulders brought him back to earth. As his darkened vision cleared to tenacious spots, he lifted his head.

And there was not an _ounce_ of fear at what he'd find.

For the first time in his life he was truly at peace. He didn't worry at what she'd suffered at his loss of control, he didn't fear for her body or mind; she'd been with him for every last second.

_With _him_._

Her heavy lidded eyes and slow dreamy smile were the perfect affidavit. It was the expression of a well-loved and soulfully sated woman.

His woman. _His_.

She hummed a silly little tune of delirious contentment under her breath and Paul sniffed a laugh and rolled them both over as he stretched back out. She rested her cheek sweetly on his shoulder with a long, blissful sigh.

"You bit me," she whispered snuggling into him and pulling her hands up between them as Paul's arms wrapped tightly around her.

"Yep," he mumbled.

"It was awesome," she gushed with a girlish giddiness that made Paul chuckle.

"Tell me about it," Paul rumbled squeezing her tighter as a thick, blanket of fatigue settled over him like a rolling fog. "Remember this part babe?" he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead and nuzzling her hair.

"Mmm… sleepy," she mumbled sounding drunk. He felt her smile press against his chest. " 'Mating bond settling."

"Yeahhhh," he sighed happily.

And he _was_ _happy_. It was crazy! He was happier than he'd _ever_ been.

For several minutes he counted her slowing breaths rolling over him as their bodies slipped into sublime satiation and their imprint viscerally knitted their souls together.

Again.

"We meet with the Fae tomorrow," Paul mumbled suddenly. His own words surprised him.

Bella's breath caught in her chest and Paul froze.

She licked her lips audibly. "Why didn't' you tell me?" her voice was thin.

Paul squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly understanding why the thought had bobbed up into consciousness: guilt.

"I was s-scared," he breathed, his tongue stumbling on such a word. "Scared you'd hold out on me," he admitted with a quiet shame.

Bella picked her head up and her canny blue eyes washed over his face carefully – taking in every last detail - ending in his eyes.

"I'll _never_ hold out on you," she whispered with a fiercely protective heat. "Never again."

Paul blinked and brought a hand up to smooth over her cheek. God, she was so fucking awesome.

"But if we're coming clean…" Bella bit her lip ruefully.

Her mortified expression instantly snagged his interest and he rearranged his arms back around as he lifted a sly and encouraging brow.

Her gaze dipped as color rushed to her cheeks. "Jasper kissed me."

Paul chuckled at her embarrassment and she looked up, confused.

"I know," he wiggled his brow mysteriously tempting the corners of her mouth to tentatively curve.

"How?"

"Well I figured that parasite would try something like that," Paul's lips hitched shrewdly. "I've seen the way he looks at you. 'Probably thought when you were Turned you'd choose him, huh?"

Bella nodded with an amazed smile.

"Did you kiss him back?"

Bella blinked. "Well, he did that mind control thing so I thought it was you…" she ventured. "But I slapped him …"

Paul smiled with a satisfied nod and an awesome mental image. "Don't you worry," he crooned as he pulled her head back down to his chest. "I'm gonna kill him real soon… and that's just gonna make it so much fuckin' sweeter."

Bella snorted and tried to lift her head. "B-but…"

"Shh… we gotta rest, babe," he murmured as he held her down and then smoothed a palm down her back.

Bella sighed and nestled into his neck as he once again wrapped her in a covetous embrace. Even _more_ covetous now. His mind wandered with relish over all the many way he could make Jasper suffer. Oh, this was going to be fun. _Fucking leech._

"Y'know, I was all prepared for you to _be_ a leech," his mouth mumbled suddenly without his permission.

"Really?" Bella asked in disbelief, succeeding at raising her head this time. "You'd still love me?"

Paul cracked open one eye and grinned at her expression of shock. "Yep," he said, popping the 'p' all casual and sure. ('Cause he was.)

Wide-eyed with wonder, Bella lowered her cheek slowly back down to his chest.

Paul tried to monitor her breath – just to see how she was processing that – but he was slowly slipping beneath the surface of tranquility: holding his mate, his imprint and best friend in his arms after what could only be described as the most life-changing sex of his existence...

_damn, that had been fuckin'_...

"Would you love me if I stayed a Werewolf?" Bella's whisper insinuated into his slumber.

The words jarred him to his core.

Paul's eyes blinked heavily open and he stared at the ceiling for a moment. That question really did something to him… and he wasn't sure what. But it was easy to answer all the same.

"I love you no matter what you are, little girl," he whispered.

Bella released a soft, hitching breath that would have piqued his interest if he didn't feel so drugged. The compulsive undertow of sleep was becoming impossible to resist.

"Good," he heard her breathe over his chest as he tumbled into dream.

'

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